Tutor Me, Mathew Williams!
by SYNdicate 930
Summary: AU. When Matthew, the new student at school, enters Gilbert's life, the popular albino finds himself changing his flirtatious ways and experiencing things he's never felt before. Dealing with Matthew's over-protective older brother, fighting over him against his best friend, and being dealt underhanded tricks to win the Canadian's heart—It's insane. PruCanFran triangle.
1. Intro

**Title:** Tutor Me, Mathew Williams!  
**Author:** SYNdicate 930  
**Summary:** Who cares about if they have History together? It's all about Chemistry, right?

**NOTE:** I attend highschool in Canada, and most highschools in my province start at 9:00 and end at 3:40. Even though this is supposed to be set in the US, I'm sticking with the time I start/end school just so it'll be easier for me to write "orz

Also, at my school, my classes change at the start of second semester, and I was wondering if that was the case in US high schools as well. I have absolutely no clue as to how high schools in the US work orz Also, I'll be using random bits of Spanish, German, and French with the help of Google translate. If anything is completely off, please, tell me! And please forgive my mistakes and errors. This is my first fanfiction, so please be nice? ^^;

**Chapter one: Intro**

"Hey, Gilbert, look who I found!" Gilbert had been throwing a few unneeded books into his locker when a voice from down the hall called out to him, laced in a familiar Mediterranean accent. As he pulled his red chemistry text book out of his backpack, he looked past his opened locker door. Immediately, he spotted a pair walking towards him and dropped it into his bag.

He watched as two boys made their way down the hall, through the throngs of people who were making their way out of their last period class in a hurry to leave. Luckily, Gilbert had been dismissed early. Waving an arm happily, Antonio smiled at him, his other arm around Francis' shoulders.

Gilbert, as well as Antonio, had not seen Francis for a week. At first, the two did not think of it as anything to be worried about, seeing as he often skipped school to stay home and had a terribly weak immune system. But as the first two days passed without a sign or word from the boy, concern began to work its way into their hyperactive minds. After calling his mobile numerous times on the third day, Gilbert and Antonio had decided to go to his house on the fourth day.

They had parked in the driveway, and walked up the steps towards the front door. After ringing the doorbell and knocking desperately on the door, they waited. There was no response. Standing at nearly 5'11", Gilbert reached over the doorway and grabbed the spare key Francis left for them. Stepping inside, they realized no one was home. The lights were turned off, and the house was devoid of any life. They thought someone had broken in and kidnapped Francis, so both boys searched the house for any signs or clues they could give to the police if that were the case.

The two had overly-imaginative minds, so the longer they searched the worse things came to look in their eyes. When they reached Francis' room, they held their breaths and walked in. They had expected to see the bed a strew, things broken and smashed, and his personal belongings missing. Instead, they saw everything in place, nothing neither missing nor stolen, and his large bed neatly done.

The next day, they became frantic. Things didn't feel right when neither he nor Antonio could contact Francis, and they couldn't help but worry like mothers sending their children to school for the very first time. Their families had been friends even before they were born, and introduced them to one another as new-born baby boys. They had been friends for so long; neither of them could even remember how it all really began. But ever since, they all knew they were three best friends, and grew to become inseparable.

So, after a full week with no sign of Francis, Gilbert couldn't help but stop and stare.

"Hey, where have you been, _connard_?" He asked as they came to a stop.

"Yeah, where _have_ you been?" Antonio agreed. Gilbert threw a friendly punch at Francis' arm, who shrugged.

"What can I say? My mom made me miss school." Antonio removed the arm he had resting around his shoulders to stand beside Gilbert and imitate his blatantly skeptical expression. Gilbert didn't believe him at all. He knew his mom was young and was more of a teen than she was an adult or responsible parental figure, but he highly doubted that she would make him miss that much school. Gilbert raised an eyebrow, and Francis reacted immediately. "Hey! What's with that look, you guys?"

Gilbert was the first to speak up. "Do you really think hiding behind your mom and saying she made you miss school is a legit excuse? Dude, Antonio and I don't have shit for brains, y'know."

Antonio snickered and Francis began to explain that a high school friend of his mom's had just moved into town with her family, and, as a result, she forced him into helping them move in. According to the French boy, the family had moved into a house on Antonio's street just a few minutes from the school by car. The story was believable, and Gilbert and Antonio bought it. After explaining the main reason, he brought up the two boys that were going to attend school with them the following week.

Though they had grown up together since they were toddlers, Francis traveled a lot between America, France, and Canada. While in Canada, he and his mother would stay with her friends and he was introduced to the two boys and they quickly became friends.

The albino continued to clean out his bag, ridding them of his school books and weight, until there was nothing left but a thin notebook, his favorite running shoes, and hoodie. In the background, he listened to Francis' story about his weeks past events. Gilbert yawned, and lifted his hand. Sliding his fingers absentmindedly across the smooth surface of his locker, he was reminded of his Chemistry book he dropped into his bag and he threw it into his locker without a second thought. Closing his locker door with a small kick of his foot, Gilbert followed Francis and Antonio out the large front doors and into the warm September air, hands in his pocket, and a charming smile on his pale face.

**—-— **

Later in the evening, Gilbert had dinner with his grandparents and younger brother, Ludwig.

Gilbert had begun to notice something strange about the older folk in his city. The older people seemed to get, the more immature they would somehow become. Beside him, his grandmother, Adelaide, was laughing heartily as his grandfather, Stefan, sat down on a yellow whoopee cushion she had thrown onto his seat just as he sat down. A string of laughter and curse words fell from his grandfather's lips, and, being the good sport he was, gave Gilbert's grandmother a high-five from across the dinner table.

"That was some good shit, dear. Good job." Stefan praised as he smiled widely at her.

They were the liveliest seventy year-olds he had ever seen. And he was damn proud of them. He raised a fist towards his grandmother, who brought hers up in response and bumped knuckles with him as Ludwig sat quietly across from Gilbert. Taking a sip of his water, he looked over at his younger brother.

Ludwig Beilschmidt was a sophomore with an +A average, blonde hair, and blue eyes that resembled their grandparents'. Despite being a year younger, he stood at six feet tall with a muscular build, intimidating aura, and possessed the maturity that always made people wonder if he really was the younger of the two. Growing up, he did not talk much. He was always the serious and responsible one in the house.

"So, what are you two boys up to tonight?" Their grandmother asked happily.

"I'm going to stay home and study." Ludwig answered easily. Stefan shot him a strange look and reached over to place a hand on his shoulder.

"You know, back in my day, we went out on Friday nights." He snickered, his old face showing the wrinkles near his eyes that indicated a life full of smiling and laughter. Gilbert looked over to Adelaide and saw the same. "What about you, Gilbert?"

Placing a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, he chewed, swallowed, and took a long sip of water. "Hmm… I might go out and go for a jog or something. I have to get ready since football's starting up soon, you know."

"That's my boy!" His grandfather called proudly. "You too, Ludwig. One of you has to have the brains in this family."

"Oh, hush, dear." His grandmother called with a giggle.

"You wanna go, grandpa?" Gilbert grinned. Pushing his empty plate to the side, he rested his elbow on the table. "Let's arm wrestle, you and me!"

His grandfather did the same, and, flexing his muscles, Gilbert reached for the older man's hand. At the command of his grandmother, they began to push with all their force. In his peripheral, he watched as Ludwig and Adelaide cleared the table and brought their plates to the kitchen. Gilbert struggled as Stefan pushed on his hand roughly. As it hit the table, Stefan cheered, throwing his hands up.

"Bam! I win again!" For a man who had just hit seventy, he was still at the top of his game. "Sixteen years, and you still have yet to beat me, boy!"

Gilbert looked up to his Grandfather in defeat, and followed him into the kitchen to help do the dishes. As his grandmother and grandfather washed and rinsed their plates, glasses, and cutlery, he and Ludwig dried them off and put them back into their respective cupboards and drawers.

He listened idly to Stefan and Adelaide converse, with small comments coming from Ludwig every now and then, as he wondered how he was going to spend the rest of his Friday. He already planned on going for a jog around the neighbourhood and maybe hit the gym, but he hadn't thought about what to do after. Francis had to catch up on all the homework he had missed during his absences, and Antonio had to help his family for his cousin's Quinceañera on Saturday.

After placing the last dish into the cupboard near the sink, Gilbert quickly ran up the stairs and changed into his sweats. Dressed in a black muscle shirt that revealed a muscular upper body, and matching black basketball shorts, he opened the closet beside the front door and reached for his running shoes. As he slid the closet closed, a large mirror came into view and he stared at himself. He flexed, and posed, and grinned at himself proudly.

For a moment, he wondered whether or not he wanted to bring his iPhone with him in case he wanted to listen to music. But, it was too late now. His shoes were on, tied tightly and perfectly, and he didn't want to get the floor dirty. In the living room, Ludwig called out to him. "You left your phone on the table!"

"Are my ear buds with it?" He asked curiously.

There was a pause. "Yeah."

Gilbert grinned. "Wanna, like, bring them over to me like the awesome little brother you are?"

He heard him sigh, and the younger male walked over with his requested items. Gilbert took his iPhone and ear buds with a thankful smile and pat on the back. "Thanks, bro!"

And with that, he ran out the door and down his street. With his music on shuffle, he let the beats, rhythms, and fast-tempo's run through his veins and push him to work harder. He had gone down his usual route around his neighborhood, and then back to his house in a circle. It had been almost an hour, and his breath was beginning to come out in short pants.

When Gilbert turned onto Antonio's street just a few blocks away from his, he began to slow down his pace as he eyed the large FedEx truck in the driveway of a red bungalow. As sweat dampened his silvery hair, he wondered idly if the house belonged to the family Francis helped move in.

Strong looking men jumped out from the front of the truck, and walked over to the back of the large white vehicle. They opened up the trunk, and began unloading the items within into the open garage. On the front lawn, a few couches, mattress frames, and other furniture sat on the green grass in front of the house waiting to be carried into their new home. A just sold sign stood proudly in front of all the furniture, swaying in the light September breeze.

Gilbert wondered silently who would be the newest addition to the East Riverstone Community. Francis had mentioned having close ties with the family, which probably meant a snobby, rich family had moved in. His mind slowly wondered off from the thought of the family, and zoomed in on thoughts about the two boys Francis had grown up with on his trips to Canada.

What were they like? Were they like Francis? Did they have weird Canadian accents like the ones on television?

Nearing the house, he tried looking for any other signs of what the two boys would be like. Gilbert always had an interest in learning about new students at East Riverstone. He was like a boy with a brand new toy; eager and curious.

At the sight of large hockey gear fit for an average 16-17 year old being carried out of the FedEx truck and dumped onto one of the couches outside, Gilbert took it as a hint that one of the boys played Hockey. He hoped whoever it was played decently. The East Riverstone Hockey team was lacking in skilled players, or at least that's what he heard through the grape vine at school.

Following the box of hockey equipment, a box with the label 'Football equipment' was dropped on the lawn close by as well as a box with the word "Lacrosse" written on it in thick black marker. He hadn't liked Lacrosse as much as other sports, so he ignored it, focused on the box that read "Football" and continued jogging down the sidewalk at a faster pace. Music blasting in his ears loud enough for passersby to hear, he mouthed the words by heart softly.

**—-— **

With Francis catching up on school work, and Antonio attending his cousin's Quinceañera and swarmed with family related matters, Gilbert was stuck by himself on Saturday and Sunday with idiotic thoughts and ideas as to what to do to make the time go by. Instead of studying for Chemistry like Ludwig had advised him Saturday morning after breakfast, the albino decided to stay in his room to watch TV and play on his PS3 all day.

Ludwig called it unproductive, but Gilbert begged to differ. If bettering his Kill-to-death-ratio on Call of Duty was unproductive, then he didn't know what was right or wrong.

The following day, he woke up a little before noon. Rolling off his bed, caught in the middle of an intense wet dream, he fell on his side with a loud 'thud' and grumbled profanities as he crawled into his bathroom for a nice, cold shower before he was off to do his Sunday afternoon chores for his beloved grandparents.

When he was finished showering, effectively getting rid of his little morning problem the only way he knew how, and dressing himself, he went to the grocery store with Adelaide, and helped her carry their bags into his car. They drove to and from the store together, and he brought in all the groceries by himself while she unpacked the food and put them into the fridge and cupboard. Afterwards, he helped mow the lawn then proceeded to spend the rest of his day at the gym until dinner came around. He ate dinner quickly, then showered before he went straight to bed, bored and unsatisfied with his dull weekend.

_Buzz. Buzz._

Monday morning came agonizingly slow to Gilbert.

A fist popped out from under is Prussian blue bed sheets and slammed down roughly atop his alarm clock. Lying on his stomach, the dreadful ringing of his alarm continued to sound through his head, and he rolled around until he hit the wall his bed sat against. He sat up with a yawn, and scratched his bare chest.

It was 8:00 AM. Gilbert still had an hour before school started, so he took his time on the way to his bathroom. Stopping beside his closet door, he pulled out his clothes for the day, and then stepped into his bathroom, wincing as his eyes stung when he turned the lights on.

He finished showering in five minutes, and stepped out with a towel draped around his waist. Holding it up with one hand, he used his other to wipe at the fogged up mirror and stare at himself. He flexed his free arm and stared at his flawless body proudly. He wasn't star-player and captain of the football team for nothing.

When he was done gawking at his reflection, he dried himself off and pulled on his clothes for the day. He had forgotten to do his laundry the other day, so his choice of clothes was limited as to what was clean and didn't smell bad. Stepping out in a plain black V-neck and blue skinny jeans, he dried his silvery hair with a small towel in one hand as drops of water fell and dampened the neckline and shoulder of his shirt. It was a simple outfit, but he didn't care. He was never one to dress up for school, unlike a certain French blonde he knew. Despite his over-the-top-with-awesome personality, Gilbert believed in simplicity and the beauty it held.

In his other hand, he held the pair of boxers he had worn the previous day. Sitting in the corner of the room was his hamper, and, with one swift movement, he chucked it into the white bin effortlessly. After yelling 'score!' he sat on his bed and continued to dry off his hair with his towel.


	2. Monday

**Title:** Tutor Me, Mathew Williams!  
**Author:** SYNdicate 930  
**Summary:** Who cares about if they have History together? It's all about Chemistry, right?

**NOTE:** I'll fix any mistakes later lol. Just wondering if any of you had any pairings you would like to see. Like, involving Francis, Antonio, and anyone else. Even if they haven't been introduced yet, please?

**Chapter two:** Monday

Gilbert's morning classes flew by in an uneventful blur. He had gym first period, followed by English, and then Math. Luckily, he shared gym with a close acquaintance; a tall Russian boy named Ivan Braginski. The two played on the football team together, and despite his initial fear of the intimidating boy, the two developed a nice, sports-related friendship. When their conversations didn't involve sports, which happened to be the majority of the time, they often found themselves situated beside one another silently. Sometimes they would talk about girls and joke around, but there really wasn't much to it.

Though there were many others in his class who would have loved to spend a period with him, he opted to hang around Ivan instead. The over-whelming majority of his gym mates were high maintenance girls that he wasn't too interested in getting to know, so he opted to offer them winks and charming smiles every now and then from afar, still sticking around Ivan.

While it didn't bother as much as it would have it were to happen with either Francis or Antonio, Gilbert felt a wall between he and Ivan that made it hard being sociable and friend with him. He wondered if it wouldn't feel like that between them if he had completely gotten over his fear of the boy, but didn't bother to think it over much with much thought. But to be honest, something about the boy scared him, but he couldn't tell just what it was. It wasn't the fact that he was fucking tall or that he was capable of snapping Gilbert in half whenever he pleased—although that was a rather frightening thought.

He settled on it maybe having to do with the time Ivan had knocked him unconscious during a football practice the previous year somewhere around October. The memory was vague, but still very much intact. After being tackled and having the wind knocked out of him like releasing the end of a just-blown balloon, he remembered a huge weight coming at him from the side and waking up in the nurse's office to a worried Francis and Antonio and guilty Ivan. Luckily, he hadn't suffered from a concussion, but was instructed to rest the wrist he had apparently sprained. A thin scar lined his wrist after having fallen on it and scratching it against a small rock in the field.

Regardless, Gilbert learned that Ivan was a genuinely sweet boy who didn't know the boundaries of his strength or of his intimidating aura. He really was a nice boy who meant well, though it was clear that he was more than capable of dealing damage where it was needed, which did concern him sometimes.

After parting ways with his Russian Phys. Ed buddy, Gilbert sauntered towards his locker on the west wing of the school with a small hop in his step. Having Gym first period had always put him in a good mood, and pumped him up with energy to go through the rest of the day. It was also the only class he was receiving an +A in, which made him feel pretty damn good.

His gym clothes and runners made his backpack uncomfortably heavy and bulgy, so he decided to hurry to dump them into his locker.

_1-18-24_.

He quickly finished turning his lock to the last of its combination, then proceeded to carelessly throw open his locker and tossed in his Phys. Ed clothes and sneakers so his notebook and Math textbook could take their place in his bag instead. The albino hadn't even realized he was let out of gym early at the sound of the bell ringing, signalling break between the first two morning classes. He figured he had changed during the break and was running late since the school bell didn't seem ring in the gymnasium. Closing his locker and zipping up his bag, he watched as students filed out of their classes and basked in the acknowledgement and approval he received from the other students. He nodded, and smiled at the familiar people on his way to his second period class.

Walking up the stairs with Antonio who had been waiting for him at the end of the hall, the two talked animatedly about their weekends. After filling Gilbert in on how wasted he had gotten with his other cousins at the after party and made out with some of his cousins girlfriends and boyfriends while they weren't looking, to which the German boy high-fived at, Gilbert complained about his boring weekend and how he had wasted such nice weather by staying home and doing chores.

With a regretful expression, he threw his hands up dramatically and exclaimed to the Spanish boy, "I thought I was going to have an _awesome_ weekend, but I ended up staying home most of the time doing nothing but game, watch TV, eat, and sleep! You and Francis suck for ditching me!"

"I'm sorry, _mi amigo_. I promise Francis and I will make it up to you this coming weekend, okay?" Antonio said as they reached the second floor, putting a friendly hand on the other boy's shoulder. "We'll do whatever you want to do, deal?"

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, the passionate sweet-heart of the Bad Touch Trio, the name the school had given Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis for rather blatant reasons, was probably one of the nicest people Gilbert had ever met. The Spanish boy had always been the ray of sunshine of the group, and the people around him often fell in love with his kind-hearted and sweet personality, athletic ability (he ran in the school's track team and held the position as captain of the school's soccer team), and cluelessness most found to be endearing. Standing at two inches shorter than Gilbert, Antonio possessed a somewhat curly mop of healthy brown hair, mirthful green eyes, and sun-kissed skin from his days out in the sun.

"I hear Feliks is throwing a party this weekend, so I was thinking we could all go?" Suggested Antonio thoughtfully. "It sounds like it'll be a lot of fun. Remember last time?"

"Man, that last one a couple weeks ago before school started was freaking _awesome_!" A mischievous glint appeared in Gilbert's abnormally red irises, and a smirk spread across his face instantly. "D'you know whose going?"

"The usual people, I guess. Why?"

He didn't really have a reason why. So he shrugged a shoulder as the bell rang, signalling the start of second period. They parted ways, and Gilbert recalled the last party Feliks threw. It was just a few days before school began, and it was _crazy_.

A live band played in the Polish boy's massive backyard, people were having a party in the pool outside in front of the band, people were dancing and drinking around the pool as well as in the large living room inside, and so much more he couldn't seem to remember due to all the alcohol he had in his system. The party lasted until the following morning, and Gilbert woke up alone in one of the room's in Feliks' house. Naked and covered in lipstick kisses that lined his face and body, he smelt of perfume, and on the floor around the bed, his clothes were scattered across the floor haphazardly.

He had a vague idea as to what could have happened, but as he got up to gather his clothes and get dressed to leave, he saw on a dresser mirror two phone numbers written in two shades of lipstick, and lips beside them in colors that corresponded with each phone number. Gilbert quickly looked at his bare chest in the mirror and saw both shades of lipstick trail from his pale face and defined collarbone moving down his chest and into his pants.

Though he had never called any of those numbers back, he felt like the biggest champ in the world and still did whenever he thought about it.

**—-—**

After their boring second period classes, Gilbert and Antonio met up again and took a walk around the second floor halls until the start of third period. They wondered where Francis was. After finally seeing again on Friday, he had suddenly decided to vanish once more on Monday. Then again, while he and Antonio had class on the west wing of the second floor, Francis had class on the main floor beneath them.

Somehow, they had ended up in the east wing of the second floor without realizing. As the stood opposite side of the school as the bell rang, the two boys cursed and rushed to their classes quickly. Being the good student he was, Antonio practically sprinted like he was running in Track down the hall to his English class while Gilbert made a dash for his.

Normally, he wouldn't have cared whether or not he was late. However, Gilbert's Math teacher was a hard-ass, who was strict when it came to punctuality and deducted marks whenever a student was late. Even if someone was getting +A's on their tests, pop-quizzes, and assignments, if they were late enough, they could end up failing or with a C. As he turned the corner, he slowed his roll and entered the room in a casual stroll.

His classmates were still chatting and out of their seats, so he guessed it meant his teacher was the one running late. With a feeling of relief washing over him, Gilbert flopped into his seat at the back of the class next to a British boy with shaggy blonde hair, green eyes, and rather thick eyebrows. The two hadn't talked much out of class, but they often discussed things regarding homework and lessons.

The British boy's name was Arthur Kirkland, and he remembered being close friends with him in middle school. Francis had introduced Arthur to he and Antonio in the eighth grade, but then, sometime in the ninth grade, Gilbert noticed the way Arthur had stopped talking to him and gave up on being friends with him after that. Since then, Gilbert tried acting normal around him and as if nothing had changed, while Arthur was still a little awkward and apprehensive.

"Uh, excuse me, Gilbert?" He turned his head to look at Arthur in the seat beside him. "Could you help me with these couple of questions on the worksheet he handed out the other day? What do those lines stand for?"

Surprisingly, Math was one of Gilbert's best subjects. Even he was skeptical of his mathematic prowess, and had this imagination set up in his head in which his teachers pretended that he was doing well as some sort of prank to get back at him for his bratty kindergarten years. But apparently, an +A meant that, no, he was doing well. Very, _very_ well. Even better than Ludwig, if one could believe that.

But people usually didn't.

Gilbert looked over at his paper with a bored expression. "Oh, those things? Those are absolute values. You, like, turn the values within them positive and shit."

In shockingly great detail, Gilbert explained how to do the first four questions with ease, and watched Arthur as he completed them. He looked over the boy's work before nodding his head in satisfaction, and explained further how he should go about it next time.

"So because '_x_' in this equation can be either above positive two, or below positive two, you'll end up with two answers." Gilbert said simply. He looked over the other boy's answers once more and, noted the perplexed look the blonde gave him. He ignored it at first, but it got on his nerves, and reached a hand to touch the corners of his mouth. "What's with that look? Do I have something on my face or…?"

"No," The boy shook his head and placed his Math worksheet on the desk in front of him with a small chuckle. "To be honest, I'm rather surprised."

"About what's on my face?" Gilbert pulled on his sleeve until it hung past the tips of his fingers, and began to vigorously wipe at his cheeks and mouth. "Is it gone?"

"No, not that! There isn't anything on your face." Arthur exclaimed. "It's just that, well, I never took you as the type that would do extraordinarily well in Mathematics. We never shared a Math period together, so this is the first time I've really seen you so… _Smart_. You seem like more of a brawns-over-brains kind of guy. "

"Thanks, I think?" He replied with a grin as their math teacher, Mr. Brown, entered with a young boy behind him.

The conversations around the classroom came to an abrupt halt, and all eyes fell upon the tall, jubilant looking boy who stood at the front of the class; right in front of the dusty old chalk-board. He had short, dusty blonde hair with a strange cowlick on one side of his head, and behind a pair of glasses were bright blue eyes that shone happily.

Gilbert thought silently to himself. _"He must be part of the family Francis helped move in."_

The boy was dressed in a black hoodie with the zipper undone, a white t-shirt, and faded blue jeans. On his back was a backpack, in hands were a black binder and pencil case, and on his feet were a pair of worn out black converse.

Gilbert gave the boy another look from head to toe, than back up again. The boy was strikingly handsome. And judging by the excited giggles and whispers coming from the girls seated in the row in front of him and Arthur, he took it that he wasn't the first or only to think so.

He watched as the boy talked to Mr. Brown. They were too far for Gilbert to hear, but he settled for trying to read their lips, something he was very, very poor at. But he didn't have time to even try when the boy turned to face the class, and the teacher spoke.

"Settle down everyone. In your seats, please." The old man said as he dropped his books and papers onto his desk at the front of the room. He motioned towards the boy, who waved to the class warmly. "Today we will be having a new student join us. Go on, introduce yourself, please."

"Okay! Hi, everyone! My name is Alfred Jones and I just came from Canada with my family and I'm, like, totally stoked to meet you all." He said with a wide smile and energetic attitude that reminded Gilbert a little of Antonio. He thought it over a little, and it occurred to him they would probably click once they met; their happy personalities combing to create a cheerful overload. Alfred looked back to Mr. Brown, who was seated comfortably at his desk. He told Alfred his introduction would suffice, and to take his place in the empty seat on the other side of Arthur.

With a cheerful 'okay!' he made his way down the aisle in front of him, either ignoring the hushed whispering and eyes that followed him, and took his seat beside Arthur. Gilbert heard him introduce himself to Arthur, but tuned it out quickly as Mr. Brown began to write their newest assignment and practice questions on the board.

**—-—**

The lunch bell rang and third period was dismissed.

Gilbert piled his notebook and math textbook into his backpack as he drowned out his teacher's reminder of their assigned math questions that were to be handed in the following day for marks. Any late work would be deducted marks, and would result one's overall grade in the class. Being the awesome student he was, Gilbert finished in class, and handed it in early to prevent any worrying about it later that evening. He handed in his work as well as Arthur's, who he helped finish without a hitch.

He noticed the new boy had been excused from doing any work on account of missing the first unit they had done. So during the lecture and free time to complete their worksheets, the boy chatted with Arthur. Gilbert, who had been waiting to see Arthur flip out and tell the boy to shut up, from what Gilbert had seen, the two clicked immediately instead of repelling one another like he had thought.

Getting out of his seat and lugging his backpack onto his broad shoulders, he said goodbye to the British boy, who had been in the middle of a conversation with Alfred, and headed out of class towards to check on Antonio. On his way out, he noted the light blush that dusted Arthur's cheeks, but ignored it. Arthur was much too conservative to blush. Then again, he was also so conservative, that the littlest things brought red to his face. Gilbert also said goodbye to Alfred, who waved after him energetically.

Exiting the classroom in a tired manner, a yawn escaped his lips, and he waited for Antonio outside his class. It had been a quick minute of waiting before the Spanish boy was let out. Standing beside the door, he watched as his friend left the class with an Italian boy he remembered having Science with in grade nine with dark brown hair, and an angry demeanor that made Gilbert wonder if he was mad at Antonio, the class, or if he just naturally looked like that, which would have been very misfortunate. He was cute, and the frown didn't do him good at all.

"I'll text you later, okay, _querido_?" Antonio said charmingly, and shot the boy an enchanting smile. The boy nodded quickly, and scurried off the opposite direction with a dark red tinting his light olive skin. He smiled after him as he waved, before turning to Gilbert.

"Oh? And who was that? Your new _amante_?" Gilbert said slyly as he showed off his poor Spanish. "Wait, isn't he Italian? Why'd you speak in Spanish?"

In response, Antonio laughed. "First off, your Spanish is _de mierda_. Secondly, no. He's actually my partner for an English project our teacher assigned us today. Thirdly, no and lastly, because he understands Spanish, too."

"Oh. Are you sure you two aren't together? I saw you give him your special-hidden-weapon-Antonio smile just now." Gilbert joked.

"If we were, I'd obviously tell you."

"But didn't you just call him _querido_? Don't you call, like, your significant other or lovey dovey partner or shit that?" Gilbert asked as they began to make their way towards Antonio's locker. The pair pushed past the flock of students walking the halls, chatting loudly and freely.

"Well, yeah. But he's not my boyfriend. I just call him that because, well, last time I checked, flirting wasn't illegal." Antonio replied, stopping at his locker near the girls' washroom. A blonde girl who looked to have just finished doing her make up stepped out of the bathroom and Gilbert winked at her. The girl did the same in response, winking and licking her lips suggestively afterwards as she walked by.

"Hmm. Now that you mention it, you're right. Flirt as much as you want." Gilbert said, staring after the curvy blonde. She wore a pair of tight navy jeans, and a neon pink tank that hugged her body nicely. Before turning the corner, she turned back to wink once more at Gilbert, who was practically drooling.

Antonio opened his locker, and slammed the door against Gilbert's back. The albino flinched as pain shot through his spine. "Ah, you stupid _puta_!"

"Hey, don't use the Spanish I taught you against me, you _pervertieren_." He said jokingly. "And it's not polite to stare—Even if she _does_ have a nice body."

"Don't worry, man. It's not like I'd go for that anyway." He said, shaking his head.

Antonio began to unload his backpack, raising an eyebrow. "Really? And why is that? You were just staring at her like a creep a few seconds ago."

Gilbert shrugged. "She's been around a lot, from what I've heard."

"Yikes."

After Antonio was done putting away his books, the two made their way onto the ground floor to where Gilbert's locker was located, talking all the way their about the frequently visited topic of the girls and boys they wouldn't mind dating or spending the night with. Being the teenage boys they were, their hormones were as out of control as the next teen's, but unlike those others, Gilbert and the rest of the Bad Touch Trio were much, _much_ more vocal and open about their hormones and raging teenage libidos.

Halfway to his locker, Gilbert began to point out the people in the hall to Antonio in a hushed tone, and began rating them out of 10. A brunette in a blue dress walked by was given an 8.5. An Asian boy at his locker was given a 9, and his blonde friend was given a solid 6 out of 10. Antonio found it amusing, and followed him, giving the girl in the dress a 7, the boy at his locker an 8 and his friend an 8.5.

He, Antonio, and Francis would play whenever they had the chance. Whether they were in the mall, buying food at the store, walking down the street, or in the car, the game never went on and on and on. In the end, if Ludwig were to ever be around to hear them state their ratings, Gilbert usually ended up scolded. While Ludwig called it 'rude', Gilbert called it 'a fun way to pass the time.'

"That Asian boy may be an 8, but Romano is an absolute 10!" Antonio said in a cheerful daze.

"You mean that guy in your English class?" The boy nodded, and Gilbert thought back to the Italian boy, and nodded with a mischievous smirk. "Heh."

"What's with that look?"

"His face is a 7, but if he didn't look so angry, I'm sure he'd be, like, a 9 or 10." Gilbert confessed as they stopped at his locker. He did his combo quickly, and continued. "He's pretty cute. And he's got a nice ass, bro."

"Hey, don't you dare—"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You can have him, dude." He snickered as he threw in his math textbook into his opened locker. "Why are you flipping shit, anyway? I thought you guys weren't together?"

"We aren't." Confirmed the Spanish boy almost disappointedly.

"So, what if I were call di—"

"Dibs!" Antonio interrupted, smiling in relief.

Gilbert threw his hands up in mock-defeat, before closing his locker, and leaning against it. The Spanish boy laughed along with him, and Gilbert gave Antonio's arm a friendly punch.


	3. Celsius

**Title:** Tutor Me, Mathew Williams!  
**Author:** SYNdicate 930  
**Summary:** Who cares about if they have history together? It's all about chemistry, right?

**NOTE:** And so, we finally get to see Matthew! Thanks to those who reviewed, favorite'd, put this fic on alert and ever bothered reading up to this point! Also, thank you to **imOodifferent,** I'll be sure to put those pairings into consideration! I love SpaMano! And, hopefully it isn't too much of a spoiler, but ding ding ding! We have a winner, ** zero434**! Though it isn't going to happen right off the bat, it'll get there ^^~

**Chapter 3: Celsius**

**—-—**

Walking towards Gilbert and Antonio, Francis ran a hand through his thick head of silky blonde hair then proceeded to greet them with a smile. Gilbert and Antonio said their hellos, and Francis motioned to the two boys a few steps behind him.

Gilbert's eyes followed and he immediately recognized the one on the left as Alfred, the boy who had been in his Math class just moments ago. Another boy who bore a striking resemblance to Alfred stood shyly on the other side of Francis, holding his books to his chest. His blonde hair was a little lighter and longer than Alfred's, and possessed a strange protruding curl similar to Alfred's cowlick. Unlike the confident blue eyes Alfred had, this boy had large violet eyes that stared timidly at his feet seated behind a pair of glasses.

He gave the boy a once over. The boy was very, very cute. He stood at about 5'7", noticeably shorter and more timid than Alfred who was about the same height as Gilbert. Dressed in a baggy white hoodie with the name 'CANADA' written in big red letters on the front, dark gray skinny jeans, and black Van sneakers, his modest appearance suited the equally modest aura the boy exuded.

"Hello, _mon amis_. These are my family friends who I helped move in and show around town for the past week. This is Alfred Jones," Said Francis, before turning to point to the boy on his right. "and this Matthew Williams. As you can see, these two are brothers. And they're in their third year of high school, too."

He took a moment to eye Matthew a little longer, finding something about his shy demeanor alluring, before Alfred cleared his throat, making it obvious to Gilbert that the boy had caught his wandering crimson eyes. But it wasn't like Gilbert was checking Matthew out. He was just intrigued by the boy's introverted appearance that contrasted Alfred's incredibly extroverted one. Many people at East Riverstone didn't come off as shy around Gilbert. In fact, when he was around, people usually acted out in an attempt to gain his attention or to start conversations with him. Never did people shy away the way Matthew did as Gilbert smiled at him.

Alfred cleared his throat a second time, this time holding Gilbert's gaze. He smiled at Gilbert, his voice sounding a little pushy as he spoke. "Hey, you were in my math class just now, right?"

Gilbert nodded. "Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you, dude."

Alfred held out a hand politely to give Gilbert a friendly handshake. Gilbert looked at it reluctantly, but took the boy's hand anyway. He didn't want to come off as rude, even though he had his moments. He was instantly met with a vice grip and intimidating ice in Alfred's blue eyes despite the cheerful smile that graced his features. Gilbert responded immediately by tightening his hold on Alfred's hand, and he felt tension grow between him and the other boy.

Tension as a result of what? Now, that he wasn't all too sure of. He had just met the boy, so what could he have _possibly_ done wrong? It usually took a day or two before people decided they hated him. He never fucked up first impressions. Ever.

Not realizing the mood taking a turn for the worse, Antonio intervened in his usual clueless manner. "Wait, if you guys are brothers, why do you both have different last names?"

Both boys stopped shaking hands, and retracted them. Gilbert stuffed his hands into his pockets. Alfred looked to Matthew, and Matthew looked to Alfred. For a moment, the brothers stood silently, staring at one another behind Francis' back before Matthew nodded.

Violet eyes found their way to Antonio, and, in a gentle tone that floated melodically through the air and into Gilbert's ears, he replied. "Well, you see, when our mother got married, she insisted on keeping her maiden name, Williams, and she was pregnant with us, they decided to give whoever was born first our father's surname, Jones, and the younger one our mother's, Williams."

"Oh, I see."

"And in the end, that's why our last names aren't the same!" Added Alfred. He walked over to stand beside Matthew, and throw a protective arm around the other boy's shoulders. "We're twins, you see, so whoever was out of the womb first was got our dad's last name and the one that came out second got our lovely mother's!"

"I know, I wondered about that too when I first met them, Antonio." Said Francis.

"Wait, but if you two are twins, why are your eyes different colors and how come you're taller?" Antonio asked.

"We're f-fraternal twins," This time it was Matthew who answered. "Meaning we aren't identical t-twins."

Alfred smiled. "Haha, yepp! Since I'm the older twin, I was born on the fourth of July, while Mattie over here was born early in the morning on the fifth of July."

"Wait, but how?" Antonio asked in growing confusion. His wondering mind never ceased to amaze Gilbert. It was just like him to shoot question after question. Then again, Gilbert was curious to see how they were twins born on two different days.

"I was born right before midnight on June. 30th while Mattie was born a few minutes past midnight on July 1st." Said Alfred. "So that makes the awesome older brother!"

"Oh." Antonio nodded in half-understanding, smiling happily at Alfred as Gilbert continued to stare at the shy boy under Alfred's arm. "Awh, that's cute. I know what it's like being an older brother. I'm always so protective over my little sister. She's only 5, but still."

Alfred beamed at Antonio.

"I know what you mean! I always worry about this little guy." Alfred said as he pulled his brother in for a noogie with the arm he had around him. Matthew groaned, and tried to move away.

"I, Alfred F. Jones, am Mattie's hero who'll always be here for him, and protect him from danger and _bad_ _guys_." He stopped giving Matthew a noogie, and his sentence finished with a cold undertone, despite his lighthearted smile. Icy cerulean eyes locked with Gilbert's fiery crimson ones, and Gilbert couldn't help but scowl slightly. What was the guy's deal? For added emphasis, Alfred pulled Matthew closer, and gave his younger brother a kiss on the top of his head. "If anyone tries to mess with my little brother, I'll beat that bastard up."

Matthew looked up at his brother, and Alfred looked down at him in response, shooting him a brotherly smile as ruffled the boy's soft blonde hair lovingly. Francis, who had been watching Alfred and Gilbert's interactions, rubbed his neck uncomfortably while Antonio and Matthew stood aloof to the rising tension between them. _"There Alfred goes again…"_ Francis thought.

"A-Anyway, what do you three have planned for lunch? What do you usually do?" Matthew asked, turning to look at Francis, Antonio, and then settling on Gilbert.

"Yeah, I'm starving!" Exclaimed Alfred, his arm still secured around Matthew as if afraid he would be taken away.

Matthew's eyes lingered on Gilbert a little longer, and the latter's words caught in his throat. Gilbert looked over to Francis for an answer. The French boy noticed this, and answered in Gilbert's place. "Well, we usually go to the cafeteria for lunch. Come on, why don't you two join us?"

**—-—**

As Francis, Antonio, and Alfred went to stand in line to go get food, Gilbert was left to go find a table with Matthew. Though Alfred seemed reluctant at the prospect of his little brother being left alone with Gilbert, Francis left him with no chance to disagree as he pulled the older brother into the line with him and Antonio. Gilbert felt a little offended at the way Alfred was treating him, but brushed it off. He was just being a little dick. Once things got unbearable, that's when he'd have to do something about it, but until then, he was just being incredibly annoying. Truthfully, there was just something about that Alfred boy that rubbed him the wrong way, and Gilbert knew that something about him rubbed Alfred the wrong way as well.

He had a feeling it had to do with his ogling of Matthew earlier in the hall in front of his locker. But, in Gilbert's defense, it was innocent and purely rated G. As they settled down at an empty table near the back corner of the cafeteria, Gilbert hopped onto the bench and watched as Matthew sat across from him. The Canadian boy placed his heavy looking books on the table in front of him, and sat patiently as he waited for the others to return. Gentle fingers folded themselves atop his lap innocently. The only reason Gilbert stared was because he found something interesting in his shyness.

Gilbert dumped his backpack onto the seat beside him, and stopped to quickly glance over at the cafeteria clock behind Matthew. For a few minutes, the two sat in silence as Gilbert drummed his fingers on the table surface while Matthew sat wordlessly, apparently engrossed in his thoughts. The albino wasn't used to being quiet around other people outside of class.

Silence made him nervous. It always did.

With his grandparents being the loud old folk they always were, and the constant talking and never ending conversations he had with Francis and Antonio, silence was something he had yet to become accustomed to in social situations. But until then, he continued to sit in quiet anxiety. He tried to amuse himself with imaginations of everything and anything to keep himself busy, but they quickly lead him to curious thoughts about the boy in front of him. Gilbert quickly glanced at Matthew while the boy wasn't looking.

Though he found something intriguing about the boy, when Gilbert looked at him, there really wasn't special about Matthew. Sure, he might have a brilliant mind and a kind heart, but Gilbert couldn't find anything about him that made Matthew stand out; there wasn't anything extraordinary that stood out about him.

However, a feeling in the pit of his stomach swelled with desire and his eyes couldn't help but fall onto Matthew. He thought that maybe it was because he was new and Gilbert wasn't used to seeing him around. It only made sense.

Resting his head in his hand, Gilbert wondered silently how a boy as innocent and demure his Matthew ever became friends with someone like Francis. It wasn't that Matthew was too good or not deserving of Francis' friendship, but that the boys were just so different that it made Gilbert's head hurt trying to think of how their friendship worked when it was just those two, Francis without he and Antonio, and Matthew without Alfred.

What did they do together? How did they act around one another? What did they bond over? What did they talk about? _What_ was there to talk about when it came to those two?

_"Maybe I should try to talk to him."_ The thought crossed his mind, and it wasn't all that displeasing. If anything, he actually kind of liked the idea. If he was friends with Francis, then he thought he might as well become friend with the boy as well. Plus, it would alleviate the panicky feeling in Gilbert's chest. He really did not like the lack of conversation going on around him. He took a deep breath, but he didn't know why.

"So… You're name's Matthew, right?" He asked, feeling uncharacteristically nervous for once in his life.

Matthew looked up from the table to Gilbert, and nodded. "I-I'm sorry, but I don't think I caught your name…"

Offering the boy a charming smile, his nervousness disappeared as his usual cocky attitude rose to the surface, he jumped onto his feet and reached his hand out. Matthew seemed taken aback, but took Gilbert's hand to shake it. Out of habit, Gilbert leaned forward and brought the frail hand to his lips as he replied proudly. "Gilbert Beilschmidt, captain of the football team and the most awesome guy you'll ever meet, at your service!"

"I-It's nice to meet y-you." Deep red tinted Matthews's soft cheeks, and he sputtered on his words as Gilbert released his hand. The albino sat back down, and noted the cute appearance the boy took on when he was caught off guard and the endearing way his cheeks turned pink.

Returning his head to rest in his hand, he asked in a casual tone, "So, how do you like it at East Riverstone? Finding all your classes easily?"

"What do you mean? As in easy to understand, or easy to locate?"

"Locate, I guess."

"S-Sort of. Francis walked Alfred and I to all our classes this morning." Frowning slightly, Matthew continued. "I feel a little guilty, though, he's been late for some of his morning classes today because of that…"

"Well, say no more! I'm here, and I'll be your awesome guide until you get to know your way around the school!" Gilbert offered, and watched as a surprised look washed over the Canadian boy's gentle features.

"R-Really?"

"Yeah, for sure! Francis can show Alfred around, and I can show you around. That way no one's late!" Gilbert grinned. "Let me see your schedule."

The boy reached into the front pocket of his hoodie, and pulled out a folded white piece of paper. Unfolding it and straightening it out a little, he passed it to the other boy who took it with a curious expression.

**First Period:** AP English, Goldenberg— 8:00 – 9:00  
**Second Period:** AP Math, Hughes— 9:10 – 10:10  
**Third Period:** AP History, Quang — 10:20 – 11:30  
**LUNCH BREAK:** 11:30 – 12:20  
**Fourth Period:** Band, Zimmerman — 12:25 – 1:25  
**Fifth Period:** AP French, Clarke — 1:30 – 2:30  
**Sixth Period:** Chemistry, Riley — 2:40 – 3:40

Gilbert's brows shot up at the AP classes. He had already expected Matthew to be intelligent just by looking at him, but he couldn't help but wonder just how a smart he really was. The AP courses at East Riverstone were notorious for being real ball busters. Students who usually received 90-100% would receive 65-75%, bumping their +A's to either a B or C. Or at least that's how Ludwig made them sound whenever he complained to Gilbert about the homework he received in his own AP classes.

Looking over each class and trying to remember where each room was located, he stared at his last period class. Chemistry with Riley. That was what Gilbert had last period as well, and he grinned over at the other boy as he handed him his time table.

"Do you know where all these classes are?" Matthew asked him.

Gilbert nodded. "Yepp. You won't have to worry about getting lost, or anyone being late. And guess what? You've got Chemistry with lil' old awesome me last period!"

"Really? That's a relief; at least I won't be alone in all my classes, t-thanks to you and Francis."

"Oh? You and Francis have class together?"

"Uh-huh. We have History together." Matthew replied. "He's actually very g-good at it."

"I know. He had to tutor me last year when I did badly." The conversation quickly dried out and an uncomfortable silence settled upon the duo as Matthew returned to sitting quietly. Gilbert began to think as to what else they could talk about, but, fortunately for him, Matthew had beaten him to it.

In an uncertain voice, he asked Gilbert, "S-So, you're the Gilbert Francis grew up with, right?"

He grinned widely. "The one and only! Why?"

"I-It's nothing. I've just heard so much about you."

"Oh? And what does he say about me? I bet it's about how freakin' awesome I am, am I right?"

Matthew looked like he was at a loss of words, obviously not used to Gilbert's personality. The boy remained silent, only looking at the German boy with big violet orbs. Gilbert felt sympathetic. Though he never felt as shy as he assumed Matthew did at that moment, he felt a little bad for the boy. Red irises glanced over at Matthew and remained there.

Being new at school and incredibly shy—"_It must be tough on a quiet little guy like him_."

Suddenly, a tray of food was dropped on the table between him and Matthew. Matthew's shoulders jumped and Gilbert flinched, his eyes shooting immediately to the figure looming over Matthew. Patting his brother's head affectionately, Alfred grinned widely as he hopped onto the bench beside Matthew with a small laugh. "Haha! I totally scared ya there, Mattie!"

"Stop picking on him." Francis said as he shook his head in amusement. He and Antonio sat on the bench across from the brothers with Gilbert; Gilbert on the end against the wall, Francis in the middle, and Antonio on the other end. Turning to look at him, Francis pushed his tray closer to Gilbert and motioned towards the burger and French fries beside a piece of pizza. "Gilbert, I got you something to eat."

"Oh! And they were also selling these pudding cups we know you like." Antonio added. He picked up a chocolate pudding cup and spoon on his tray and placed it on Francis' tray beside Gilbert's food.

Gilbert smiled at his friends' thoughtfulness and said his thanks before digging into his burger and fries as Alfred and Matthew shared two slices of pizza together across the table.

As the boys finished their food, Matthew passed on the plan Gilbert had come up with to Alfred; that Francis would help show Alfred around and take him to all his classes until he could do it himself, and that Gilbert would help Matthew do the same to prevent Francis from being late from class. Alfred seemed to object immediately, saying he was worried about bad things and people that would try to pull something on him.

Gilbert caught the quick shift in Alfred's eyes as the darted into his peripheral to glance at the albino instantly. Gilbert averted his stare to meet Alfred's, who looked back to Matthew with concern. "Are you sure about that?" He asked the boy worriedly as they got out of their seats.

Alfred picked up Matthew's books for him as the other boy replied. "I'm sure. Besides, I don't think we should keep Francis late after he missed a whole week because of us."

"Huh. I guess you're right…" Alfred trailed off as Matthew grabbed his books from him. The smaller boy struggled slightly as he tried to balance them in his frail arms.

"Don't worry, Alfred. Gilbert has been one of my best friends since I was a little boy and he knows his way around the school." Francis interrupted. "Besides, Matthew's next class is right next to Gilbert's, so there's nothing to worry about."

**—-—**

Walking out of the exit opposite to the one Francis, Antonio, and Alfred left through, Matthew watched apologetically as Alfred looked back at him as he pushed open the large cafeteria door with a frown, and blue puppy dog eyes. He looked like a mixture of an over-protective parent watching their child move out and into the real world on their own, and a young puppy missing their loving owner. It pulled on the young boy's heart strings more than he thought it would.

From a young age, Matthew and Alfred were inseparable and preferred not to do much in the absence of the other. Where Matthew went, Alfred would often follow acting like a bodyguard of sorts that Matthew didn't need. As a result of being born weaker and with minor breathing problems, Alfred always felt the need to 'protect' Matthew from anything he deemed dangerous or harmful. When Matthew was subject to bullying in his kindergarten years, Alfred, who had been born with a stronger and taller build, always played the hero; jumping in and beating the living daylights out of anyone who even considered harming a soft little strand of blonde hair on his beloved brother's head.

Since then, Alfred never seemed to have out grown his little habit of guarding Matthew. Sometimes he didn't mind it because if it were they were born the other way around, with Alfred born weaker and Matthew born stronger, he surely would have done the same.

The doors closed behind Alfred as Francis lead him towards his first afternoon class, who looked excruciatingly reluctant. Matthew couldn't tell if he was just seeing things or if Alfred had glared at someone near Matthew before he disappeared from his sight down the long hallway.

Turning away, he felt rather guilty. Alfred was always worrying about him, though he gave Matthew time to himself at school to spend time with his other friends. The thing was that they were in a completely different school now, at least twice the size of their old school back in Canada. The hallways were twice the size in comparison to the hallways of Matthew's old school, with a third floor with tons of classrooms on each floor that added to the boy's confusion surrounding his way around.

He hoped none of his classes would be on the third floor. He imagined how big of a pain it would be to climb three flights of stairs every day and the trouble he'd face carrying such heavy books. Subconsciously, Matthew adjusted the binder and textbooks in his arms into a more comfortable position as Gilbert opened the door for him.

Matthew stuttered through a 'thank you' to the tall boy, and let himself be lead to East Riverstone's band room down the empty halls. Luckily for Matthew, the band room was on the main floor. Picking up his pace, he speed walked in order to keep up with Gilbert's long strides.

Whenever Francis flew over, he would always bring with him not only small trinkets and pricey gifts for he and Alfred, but stories of all the shenanigans he and the Bad Touch Trio pulled off. The tales he would tell and the pictures he would present them with were amusing to say the least. Even someone as timid and innocent as Matthew saw the hilarity in the things they said and did.

While Francis described Antonio to be the clueless and innocent one, Gilbert was portrayed as the sort of stereotypical popular boy who was the life of the party with an exceedingly flirtatious attitude that rivalled Francis', and big, loud mouth. But, as he walked beside Gilbert, whose mouth was zipped shut, Matthew didn't see the boy he had heard all about for the past few years. Sometimes he would wonder if Francis ever spoke about him and Alfred to Gilbert and Antonio and, if so, what kind of things he would tell them.

The once lifeless halls quickly came to life as students left the cafeteria behind them and walked in through the main doors at the front of the school near the office. For a moment, Matthew worried about being lost in the crowd due to their differing strides and walking speeds. So, moving his books and binder into his stronger arm, he used his other to reach forward and hold onto the back of Gilbert's sleeve the way he held onto Alfred's sleeve when they were younger.

This seemed to have caught Gilbert's attention, for he turned his head to look down at Matthew. Matthew looked up from his hand to meet Gilbert's stare and was greeted with deep red eyes. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. The color reminded him of blood. But he tried to push that thought away, and was successful as Gilbert's voice cleared all unwanted thoughts.

"You want me to carry your stuff for you?" Gilbert offered, noticing the way he struggled to keep up with him and hold his books and binder at the same time. Matthew shook his head in protest. Gilbert ignored him, and stopped walking to pry them from his slender arms. He held them effortlessly. "Don't worry about it, I got you, okay?"

Gilbert shot him a wide smile, showing off his perfect pearly whites. Matthew smiled back.

"So," The boy began as he held Matthew's books in one arm. "Do you know where your locker is? If you have Band now, lugging all this crap with you wouldn't make much sense if you're sittin' there playing, like, the trombone or something, now would it?"

"Y-You're right." Matthew realized putting his things away would have been a smarter idea than bringing them with him. While Gilbert pulled them aside to prevent holding up the people walking behind them in the hallway, Matthew rummaged around though his pockets for his time table again. After pulling it out of his hoodie pocket, held the paper out for Gilbert to read the locker number printed in fine black ink at the top right corner.

"Locker 701." Gilbert read aloud in a thoughtful expression. "This means your locker should be on the second floor."

Gilbert began walking towards the staircase past the gym. Matthew walked speedily by the other boy's side and wondered how Alfred was doing and if he had already made it to his class. Pulling out his phone and looking at the unscratched screen, he read 1:22 PM; eight more minutes until the start of the class he had been looking forward to the most. Unlike his brother, whose brilliant athletic skill and talent in every sport he played outshined Matthew's, his musical ability and knack for playing a multitude of instruments left Alfred's drumming in the dust. When he had signed up for the Band, he was asked to state his preferred instrument. Instead, he left it blank and left it to his teacher to decide. Walking up the stairs beside Gilbert, he hoped to make new friends that shared his interest in music.

Suddenly clearing his throat, Gilbert said casually, "So, tell me about yourself."

"I-I beg your pardon?"

His violet eyes shifted to Gilbert, whose lax faced produced a charming smile that effectively held Matthew's attention until they reached the second floor. "I said 'tell me about yourself.' You know, like, anything you're interested in?"

Matthew pursed his lips into a thin line as he thought. "I like winter?" He said in an unsure tone, not knowing if that was the answer Gilbert was looking. To his surprise, the boy seemed pleased with his response.

"Really? I hear winter in Canada is _brutal_."

"N-Not really… It depends on where you live. In s-some places, winter can get as cold as minus fifty degrees Celsius, while other places are only minus 10 degrees Celsius." Said Matthew as Gilbert came to a stop in front of a locker. Matthew, whose eyes had been fixated on his locker and the fact he had a full locker instead of a half locker he had in his old school, looked up and squirmed under the confused expression on Gilbert's face.

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment before Matthew asked, worried he had offended the other boy, "I-Is something the matter?"

Gilbert waited a couple before answering. "The fuck's 'Celsius'?"


	4. Matthew's First Day

**Title:** Tutor Me, Mathew Williams!  
**Author:** SYNdicate 930  
**Summary:** Who cares about if they have history together? It's all about chemistry, right?

**NOTE:** As always, sorry for any mistakes. Also, HAPPY CANADA DAY! As a proud Canadian (who is hoping for Spain to win Euro 2012!), I present to you this chapter! Lastly, as already mentioned (I think), I do not speak French, German, or Spanish, so I apologize for my poor use of the language(s). I rely on google translate for them, so... Yeah. Hopefully you guys like this chapter (and overall fanfic) regardless?

And, uh, apparently Denmark's human name is Mathias(?) I read it off yahoo answers since I wasn't sure what it was so... Yeah. It supposed to be Denmark.~~

**Chapter 4: Matthew's First Day**

Matthew left the Band room with a satisfied smile. After having a short talk with his Band instructor and expressing his ability to sight-read sheet music for most instruments with ease before lessons begun, he was placed as a second clarinet as it was his favored and stronger instrument.

When other sections needed more people to play parts that were lacking in number or volume, he would switch and then return to his clarinet. There were many spare instruments, and the teacher offered to let Matthew borrow the needed mouthpieces if he were to ever switch instruments. Though he hadn't brought his clarinet with him that day, he was sent to the back of the room to play as a percussionist. His classmates didn't seem to notice him much as he made his way to the snare drum. After quickly glancing at him once, the other teens went back to their conversations and warm ups, never to look back at him until after class.

It was in the percussion section that Matthew made his first friend, an Austrian boy by the name of Roderich who played the piano. Roderich played the piano better than anyone Matthew knew. But on songs that did not require the piano, the boy would switch to the xylophone as Matthew played on the snare drum right beside him.

The part Matthew was given was simple, so no one seemed to notice him playing well. Counting the off-beats in his head as he watched diligently for changes in the time-signature, he played with ease and returned the smile Roderich offered him.

When class was dismissed, he said goodbye to Roderich, who did the same as the other students were busy packing up and cleaning their instruments, and waited for Gilbert to pick him up like he had been told. Waving goodbye to the Austrian boy, he waited by the shelf that held trumpets and other brass instruments near the door. The first day of Band was fun, and he was glad he had made a new friend.

Matthew smiled as he looked down at his phone. In big white letters, he saw he had received a text from Alfred. He wondered how he hadn't noticed. Maybe the ringing of his phone had been drowned out from the loud playing of the band. Swiping his thumb across the screen of his iPhone, the text read:

**_Hey mattie! R u okay? How was band did you find youre class w/o any trouble? _**

His brother was never one to write words in texts properly, nor did he give a hoot about grammar or punctuation. Sometimes he had trouble reading Alfred's messages.

Matthew texted back quickly.

**_Hi, Alfred. Yes, I am okay, and so was my class. It wasn't that hard getting here since Gilbert led me. _**

He pressed send. Suddenly, a tall shadow loomed over him, causing the auto-brightness of his iPhone's screen brighten. Looking up, Matthew saw Gilbert standing over him, his arm on the wall above his blonde hair, with an expression he couldn't decipher at all. He hadn't noticed how close the German boy was standing until his fingers brushed against Gilbert's chest as he brought his hand down to place his phone into his back pocket. The thin fabric of Gilbert's dark shirt hugged his well-toned upper body, showing off his athlete-physique nicely. The close proximity and accidental touch brought a shade of red to Matthew's cheeks.

"Hey." Gilbert cooed with a grin.

"H-Hi." After catching the grin Gilbert offered him, Matthew averted his eyes. He kept his eyes on the boy's shirt shyly.

"So?" Gilbert asked as he took a step back and led them out of the Band room with his backpack hung on one shoulder. Noting the surprised looks and glances he received from his fellow band mates upon Gilbert's arrival, he followed silently. His blush began to fade as they entered the hall.

He tried his best to ignore his classmate, as he wasn't used to others paying much attention to him. People usually never realized he was in the same room as them; he was always invisible, and that didn't bother him as much as being visible. Matthew hadn't realized he had ignored Gilbert until the boy stopped in his tracks to look at him.

"D-Did you say something? I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, it's okay, dude." Gilbert said as he walked Matthew back to his locker. "I just asked how your class was."

"Oh." They stopped in front of Matthew's locker. Matthew did his combo written on the back of his time table quickly. He grabbed his binder and stopped for a moment to eye his red Chemistry book, not sure if he wanted leave it, or bring it with him to save time between his fifth and sixth period class.

Noticing Gilbert eying him strangely, he flushed pink and grabbed it anyway. "Uh, it was r-really good."

"So, what instrument do you play? Do you play the trumpet or something?" Gilbert asked as he mimicked a flute with his fingers. Matthew giggled and Gilbert smiled. "I know, I play a mean air-trumpet." Gilbert said proudly.

Matthew shook his head as he continued to giggle. He closed his locker softly.

**—-—**

"I'll pick you up after class, okay?" Gilbert said as he followed Matthew into his French class. Matthew nodded and felt a blush rise to his cheeks at the grin that tugged on the corners of Gilbert's lips. "Alright, see you then."

Taking a seat at the front, Matthew placed his books on his desk and waved goodbye shyly to Gilbert, who nodded at him before exiting the class. As he sat patiently awaiting his teacher and classmates, he took a gander at the classroom around him. Unlike his old school, where two people shared a long, wooden desk, he sat in seats with a strange table connected to them. They were just like the ones he had always seen on TV shows and movies. His chemistry book took up too much room on the desk, so he moved it onto the floor to lean against one of the legs of his chair.

Quietly, he pulled out his phone and read another text Alfred had sent him just a minute or two after he arrived to his French classroom.

**_Oh ok thats good. Rmbr if anything bad hppns to u u better tell me ok? _**

Matthew texted back quickly as his teacher entered the room.

**_Okay, Alfred. I'll see you after school. _**

His French teacher reminded him a little bit of his homeroom teacher back in Canada; young, bright, and trying to prove themselves to the students as an authority figure not to be messed with despite their age, who walked with an air of seriousness despite their youthful face. After dumping her white day planner and binder onto her desk, she walked over to Matthew and spoke to him. She made sure he knew what he was getting into by taking AP French and how some people who normally did well in normal French, often found it difficult to keep up.

In response to this, he nodded as his fellow classmates made their way to their seats. Walking back to her desk, Miss. Clarke said to the class, "Today we have a new student joining us. His name is Matthew Williams." She smiled at him. "If you'd please introduce yourself, Matthew."

She motioned for him to stand in front of the chalkboard. A nervous feeling ran down his spine as eyes suddenly shifted to him curiously. His palms began to sweat and he gulped. _"Oh, boy."_

"C'mon, don't be shy now." She said encouragingly. Matthew looked at her and to his other classmates. The boys and girls beside and behind him looked at him expectantly, as if waiting to hear something amazing or out of the world about the boy. Standing up, Matthew nervously stepped to where his teacher pointed to and he looked at her.

"Go on, Matthew."

Taking a deep breath, Matthew said smoothly and fluently, _"Bonjour. Je m'appelle Matthew Williams. Je suis du Canada et d'emménager ici Vient avec ma famille la semaine derniè est agréable de rencontrer tous vous."_

Matthew, who was very confident in his French, felt proud he had been able to get through his introduction without stuttering the way he normally did when he spoke. He wondered what his classmates thought, but couldn't tell if the open mouths he saw from a few students were a bad or good sign. The surprised looks made him squirm a little, so he turned to look over at his teacher, whose mouth hung open in surprise as well.

_"Ai-je dit quelque chose de mal? Je m'excuse si j'ai offensé vous ou q-quelqu'un dans la classe, m-mademoiselle." _He asked his teacher nervously.

He couldn't help but stutter at the last little bit as his teacher's face began to show even more signs of shock. At this point, Matthew kept his mouth shut in a thin line as he continued to stand silently in front of his dumbfounded peers and teacher.

His thoughts were scattered. Maybe he mixed up his past and present-tenses and they were surprised he messed up on something as easy as that. She did make the class sound very advanced, so he hoped he wouldn't fall back. He began to doubt his French.

"Thank you. T-That was great, Matthew." Miss. Clarke said after a pause and smiled at him. "Please, if you would return to your seat."

Nodding, he returned to his seat in the front row and opened his binder to begin taking notes. Grabbing the pencil he kept hanging on the top ring of his binder, he flipped through the pages of his binder to a sheet of blank lined paper and waited for Miss. Clarke to begin. She was busy looking through her binder and work for the day's lesson.

As Matthew sat there patiently, he wondered what he had said to cause such strange reaction. Had his accent sounded strange? He had been very nervous, and whenever his nerves kicked in, he often sounded like someone who didn't speak French, reading off a piece of paper hoping to make it sound good.

Well, that's what Francis would tell him sometimes, much to his dismay. Matthew really hoped the other students wouldn't make fun of him too much… Or at least not as much as Francis would from time to time. But with the French boy, Matthew always knew he was kidding around.

Behind him, Matthew heard people whispering.

_"What did he say just now?"_

_"I have no idea. I think he said his name is Matthew?"_

_"No shit—Miss. Clarke said that, too!" _

_"Dude, I'm so confused, what did he say?" _

_"I don't know, we haven't learned any of what he just said, I think."_

_"His accent sounds legit. I bet the guy's fluent."_

To his surprise, it was the exact opposite of what he had thought. He had done well.

_Extremely_ well.

It made him happy, and he was glad that he could shine, even if it was for a split second. Turning his attention to his opened binder, he put the tip of his pencil to the top of the page and wrote the date. When he looked up, he immediately dropped his pencil and sat in his chair guiltily for he now had little to no motivation.

They were still in the middle of learning how to use/the difference between different French pronouns.

**—-—**

Class was dismissed with his classmates vigorously studying for their pronouns test the next day and Matthew doodling maple leafs and composing little tunes in his notebook. He was a little disappointed to see his French class stand much too easy for him. It wasn't that he thought he was smarter than anybody else in that room, but when he had read 'AP' when looking for classes to sign up for, he had assumed AP to be something more difficult.

With a groaned quietly, he picked up his book he had left against the leg of his chair and then his binder that sat on the table. He took both into his arms, and crouched down quickly as his Chemistry book slipped from between his chest and binder. Picking it up once more, he made sure to hold it tight. He hooked his arm around it effectively, and sighed at his clumsiness.

With a hand on the desk he had been sitting at, Matthew looked up to see Gilbert looking down at him in amusement. Matthew wondered how long he had been standing there, but didn't have much time to think about it as a student purposely rammed his foot against Matthew's back.

The boy snickered down at the Canadian boy. "Watch it, new kid."

"Back off, bro." Gilbert snarled slightly at the other boy, who immediately made a run for the hills. After watching him dash out the room before anyone else, Gilbert reached down to help Matthew up. He looked at the German boy's hand nervously, but took it reluctantly anyways, a pink tint in his cheeks. As he stood up, he wiped at the dust on the back of his sweater from the other boy's shoe. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I-I'm fine." He smiled at Gilbert. "Thank for that, though."

"It's no problem. Picking on you 'cause you're new isn't awesome at all." Gilbert pulled out his phone to check the time on his phone. Mathew hadn't realized they were still holding hands, and pulled away as Gilbert said, "Okay, 8 minutes before Chemistry."

"O-Okay." Matthew followed Gilbert out of the room, this time with Gilbert walking much closer, and noted again the glances he received as he left with the tall albino.

"Man, that guy just now was such a dick." Gilbert said as they walked towards their Chemistry class just down the hall from Matthew's French class. The boy stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as Matthew held his books tightly to his chest. "Don't mind guys like that."

Matthew nodded and entered his last class. On the board, the name 'Mr. H' was written on the chalkboard in large letters, and, for a moment, Matthew wondered if they had walked into the wrong room. Gilbert reassured him. "Don't worry, it's a sub. I think Mr. Riley's sick or something."

"I-I see."

"You wanna sit with me and my buds in the back?" Gilbert asked.

Matthew nodded, and let Gilbert lead the way.

As Gilbert high-fived and bumped knuckles with some fellow school athletes that played on the basketball team on his way to his usually seat at the back of the room, Matthew followed with his head and eyes down in a demure manner. No one seemed to notice him anyway, so he made it to the back safely without any attention. He didn't like people looking at him, anyway. He was never used to being given loads of attention without Alfred, a magnet for people's attention, around him.

Slowly, more and more students filled the seats in front of Matthew, and class had finally started. Or so he thought.

Fast forwarding to the middle of Matthew's Chemistry class, he sat beside Gilbert at a desk in the last row of the classroom. Though thankful that he was not asked to do another introduction, he figured it was because his Chemistry teacher, Mr. Riley, was away. In his place for the day was a substitute teacher, who looked like he had no idea what he was doing. After taking attendance, he called on a free work-period.

But, instead of working, Matthew learned this meant time to slack of and chat. He wasn't sure if he was to follow the substitute's work-period, or talk with Gilbert and his friends who had been asking him question after question. He was feeling guilty for ignoring the boys while he read through the first bit of his Chemistry text book in an attempt to catch up before he would meet Mr. Riley the following day. However, the substitute didn't seem to mind the mindless chatting. Instead, he gave all his attention to his laptop as he sat at the front behind the teacher's desk.

Closing his text book with a soft sigh, Matthew looked to Gilbert, who was in the middle of introducing his friends. "This is my friend Heracles, and my other friends, Mathias and Berwald, fellow Riverstone Warriors."

"Fuck yeah!" Mathias bumped knuckles with Gilbert.

Mathias had wild blonde hair and blue eyes that were full of life and vigour. They reminded Matthew of Alfred's. In contrast to his loud personality that seemed to match well with Gilbert's, the other boys, Berwald and Heracles, were quiet young men. Berwald, too, had blonde hair that was just a tiny bit light than Mathias', and blue-green eyes. Even in his seat, the boy looked to be one of the tallest people Matthew had ever met. Beside Berwald, Heracles had his head on the desk. He was out cold, and taking a nap.

The difference personalities in this group were large. Gilbert and Mathias cursing and laughing loudly, while Berwald sat silently with Heracles, who was completely unconscious. Matthew wondered how Gilbert was capable of being friends with people that were so different from him. It was nice, though. At least he seemed to be open to different type of people and personalities.

It was like how Matthew was friends with Francis and Alfred. Most people he knew weren't as close with their siblings as Matthew was with Alfred. And the fact that the boy was so different from him only added to the uniqueness of their brotherly relationship.

"So, Matthew, how you likin' it here?" Mathias asked. He was seated at a desk by himself in front of Gilbert and Matthew. The boy didn't seem to mind that he sat alone. He sat on a metal stool with his feet propped up on the empty stool beside him comfortably.

"I-I really like it here." Matthew replied truthfully.

"If you ever need someone to show you around, I'm always here." Mathias said as he leaned forward. He winked at Matthew, who began to blush madly. He stuttered, and Mathias continued slyly. "What do you say?"

"I-I… Uhm…"

"Back off, dude. Stop picking on the poor boy!" Gilbert said with a snicker. Mathias began to laugh to and Matthew's tense shoulder eased slightly, grateful the German boy jumped in.

"Okay, okay." Mathias said in defeat, his voice light as he laughed. He turned back to Matthew with mock-seriousness. "Seriously, I'm always here. You can get my number from Gilbert."

"Fuck off, man!" The two laughed loud enough to make Heracle stir across the aisle from Matthew. Berwald sat silently and offered the Greek boy his iPod to drown out the other boys.

The rest of the class went on in this manner, with Mathias teasing Matthew, Berwald and Heracles sitting and sleeping around wordlessly, and Gilbert sitting back laughing, and occasionally jumping whenever Matthew got to uncomfortable. It was as if the boy could read Matthew's mind.

When it was time to leave, Matthew and Gilbert said goodbye to the other boys. After Matthew finished gathering his things, he left with Gilbert. Once again, he received surprised looks from his classmates and noted the way Gilbert walked closely next to him. Their sides constantly brushed against one another as they walked over to Antonio, Francis, and a worried Alfred.


	5. I'll Do Anything Once

**Title:** Tutor Me, Mathew Williams!  
**Author:** SYNdicate 930  
**Summary:** Who cares about if they have history together? It's all about chemistry, right?

**NOTE:** I will let it be known I do not know any German, so I got the help from Google Translate. While I was writing, I couldn't help but put a little bit of myself in Matthew. Before you read, I'd just like to say I was rather surprised to actually learn what 'friends with benefits' were. Also, I screamed so loud when I heard Spain won (I was out volunteering on Canada Day, yeah, the game was on Canada. It was a great day), so if you heard me, maybe you can tell me? d;

Lastly, I am slowly reaching the part where Gilbert and Francis fight over Matthew so please be patient with me. I'm slow. "orz

**Chapter 5: I'll Do Anything Once**

It was Saturday morning.

Saturday mornings were God's gift to everyone one earth because it presented the gloriousness that was the privilege of sleeping in for as long as one's heart desired. It was a special day for people like Gilbert, who would stay up all night on Friday and sleep all morning on Saturday without any worries of school starting up at 8:00 AM.

As usual, Gilbert slept in despite Ludwig's attempts at waking him up with loud knocks at his bedroom door and military-like yelling in the hallway. The boy was like a drill-sergeant, always breathing down his neck and making sure he woke up at ungodly hours on the weekends. Gilbert never did like that, especially during the long weekends or summer break. It was the absolute worse. But, after years and years, he grew immune to his little brother and almost everything else as soon as he fell asleep.

It was nearly impossible to wake up Gilbert once he was fully unconscious. He was such a heavy sleeper that Francis and Antonio were sometimes forced to resort to physical methods of waking him up, though that seemed to fail at least half the time. But, sometimes they would take advantage of it, and draw on his face or pull other kinds of childish pranks on him.

Gilbert went as far as to get his alarm clock customized so it rung at a loud enough volume to wake him up in the morning for school. It was even loud enough to wake up Ludwig, whose room was right next to Gilbert's, every now and then. Thankfully, Ludwig hadn't tried to wake him up that morning. The younger brother had stayed up all Friday night as well, but to study for an upcoming test in his AP English class, so he decided to sleep in for once.

However, this weekend, Gilbert's beauty rest was interrupted by a French boy and Spanish boy who had no respect for his privacy.

On the count of three, the two slammed open his bedroom door without knocking and entered without permission. The door flew open abruptly. The doorknob hit the wall with a noisy 'thud' and Francis and Antonio sauntered in boisterously. The two yelled his name and unconventional morning greetings as they closed the door behind them. This didn't seem to stir even the slightest reaction out of Gilbert, who, curling up under his Prussian blue sheets while nuzzling his face into his pillow, merely rolled over onto his stomach sleepily and completely unaware.

"Gilbert, rise and shine, amigo!" Antonio called out cheerfully to the sleeping teen. With a running start, he leapt forwards as if weightless through the air while Francis began yelling profanities at the sleeping boy.

Like a Frisbee, Antonio flew across the room effortlessly. "Yahoo!"

He landed right on Gilbert's back. If the sound of joints snapping wasn't Francis cracking his knuckles while he wasn't looking, then Antonio was probably just hearing things.

_Probably_.

Antonio sat on the German boy's back, smiling as brightly as the warm beams of sunlight that peaked into Gilbert's bedroom through his white blinds, and thanked Gilbert's grandparents for letting him and Francis into the house. Gilbert squirmed from under Antonio with an exhausted whine. He tried to shake the other boy off him, but Antonio stood his ground.

"_Guten morgen_!" Antonio yelled mirthfully down at Gilbert, who poked his head from under his sheets. His platinum hair was ruffled and messy, and dark bags rested deeply under his heavy crimson eyes that glared upwards. Gilbert squinted his eyes at the light from the window behind Antonio's grinning form.

He cursed.

With a yawn, Gilbert gazed at Francis, who pulled his computer chair from his desk to his bed, and then to Antonio in confusion. "Wait, wait, wait,'_Guten_ _morgen_'? Since when the fuck did you know how to say good morning in German?"

"Since forever!" Antonio countered gleefully.

"You'd be surprised how much better we are in German than you, Gilbert." Francis teased. The boy crossed his legs and leaned into the comfy leather seat. Gilbert huffed.

"Pfft. Oh yeah? Well, _mein schwanz ist größer als deine und deine_." He said to both boys with a smirk.

_"Let's see them talk back to that!"_ He thought to himself cleverly.

"_Willst du wetten_?" Francis replied smugly.

Antonio chuckled heartily, a hand on his stomach, and added, "Hahaha! _Ihre ist wahrscheinlich die kleinste_, Gilbert!"

"H-How—What—You—Antonio—Franics—German—Said—What?" Gilbert stuttered and tumbled over his words, his eyes jumping back and forth between each boy. The surprised look Gilbert shot the two boys was priceless.

Francis chuckled. "_Er ist so überrascht_."

"_Kann er nicht verstehen_?" Antonio said wondrously.

"_Seine eigene sprache_?" Francis paused. "_Ich wusste nicht er war dass dumm_."

"_Er war schon immer der dümmste von uns drei_." Replied Antonio.

His weary, half-lidded eyes shot wide open and his chapped lips fell open, his mouth hanging in shocked 'o'. How they understood and spoke back to him in perfect German was _unbelievable_. He was so sure the only German Francis and Antonio knew were the dumb bits and pieces he had taught them here and there, curses and slang, and basic phrases like, '_hello_' and '_goodbye_'. Gilbert pinched himself.

"Gilbert? _Kannst du das verstehen uns_?"Francis asked.

Gilbert gritted his teeth. "Yes, I can understand you!" He hollered in annoyance.

"_Bist du sicher_?" Antonio asked as he began swinging his legs back and forth.

"Yes I am—Will you guys stop with the German already?" Planting his hands on either side of him, he lifted himself. As if doing a push-up, he straightened his arms and sent Antonio falling. The Spanish boy fell onto Gilbert's bed with a childish giggle, as the latter swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

The wooden floor felt cool under his feet, and the chilly morning air left goosebumps running up and down Gilbert's muscular arms and chest. Instinctively, his hands came up to rub at his bare arms for warmth.

On his nightstand, his alarm clock read 10:21 AM, and two hours before he had planned on waking up.

He was tired; anybody could have seen that. The dull stare in his eyes, the tired bags under his eyes, and the expression on his face that read 'kill me now, and let me go back to sleep.' His posture even said a lot; back slouched and arms resting on his thighs, barely supporting his upper body. It wasn't a pretty sight.

Francis spared him one look before laughing into his hand. "You look like a mess."

"Gee, thanks."

"Put a shirt on! Your paleness is blinding." Antonio added as he threw one of Gilbert's pillows at the tired boy. The small pillow hit the side of his face.

He blinked, unaffected as the pillow slide down his cheek comically.

"You guys come into my room yelling early on a Saturday morning, jump on me in my sleep," He looked over his shoulder at Antonio, who smiled cluelessly at him. "And, to top it all off, you guys call me stupid in my own language, and then insult me in English. Why?"

There was a long pause. Francis and Antonio sustained the silence as they stared at one another guiltily, their looks speaking to each other loud and clear. The noiseless sound was music to Gilbert's weary ears. It was seldom for Gilbert to ever be serious, so the two boys sat quietly, uncertain as to what to say or do.

It was after a few moments that Francis spoke up. He burst into laughter. "Because it's fun."

The French boy's laughter was contagious, causing a domino-effect that left Antonio rolling around laughing beside an unamused Gilbert. "I know, right?"

As the two boys laughed, he brought a hand to run through his bed ridden platinum hair and swore under his breath.

If randomly showing up early on a Saturday morning, waking him up by jumping on him in his sleep, then proceeding to make fun of him in his own language was their definition of 'fun', then Gilbert really needed to reconsider the whole 'friendship' thing.

—-—

"And so he finally comes out!" Antonio exclaimed from his spot on the bed, in a little pillow/blanket fort he had constructed while Gilbert was taking a shower.

Using several pillows, he created a small barrier around himself, and threw over Gilbert's blanket over top as a roof. Green eyes looked through the little eyehole he added at the front of the fort, and Francis' eyes followed Antonio's.

Gilbert noted the '_no Gilberts allowed!_' sign hanging on the fort, written in sloppy purple Crayon on a scrapped piece of loose leaf he probably found on the floor, and how Francis hadn't moved an inch. He was still sitting on his computer chair, but now with a sly grin poking at his lips. "What took you so long? Taking care of a little morning problem, hmm?"

"Gross!" Laughed Antonio. Gilbert couldn't help but laugh as well, but at Antonio's immaturity.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Gilbert walked towards his hamper with a towel slung around his broad shoulders, and a tired slouch in his otherwise perfect posture. As usual, he had changed in the bathroom, with the bottoms of his jeans slicked just a tiny bit with water from his shower. After giving his French friend the finger, who laughed it off while giving the finger in return and spun around in the computer chair to watch Gilbert, the German boy threw his boxers into his plastic hamper, and took down Antonio's pillow fort with a destructive hop onto his bed.

Bell-flopping onto his bed, he fell atop Antonio who cried out loud over his fort. "No, Gilbert, why! I spent so long building this!"

"He did." Confirmed Francis as Antonio mourned the loss of his fort with a pout. "As soon as you closed the door, he spent the entire time you were in there trying to put up the pillows in a way that would stay up. It's kind of sad seeing all the effort go to waste."

"So what'd you guys come over so early for?" Gilbert asked casually, lying down on his side on Antonio's leg with a hand holding his head. Pillows littered the bed and floor between Francis and them, and the blanket had fallen on Antonio's head like an over-sized hood.

Suddenly forgetting his special fort, Antonio exclaimed excitedly, "Well, we decided to make up for ditching you last weekend!"

Francis nodded. "It is true. But, if we do anything, would you two mind if I asked Alfred and Matthew to tag along when we finally decide on what to do?"

"Nope!"

"Kinda."

Francis and Antonio looked to Gilbert immediately. He shrunk under their gaze and sat up against the wall beside Antonio as if straightening himself would make him feel more confident.

"Alfred doesn't seem to like me." He said, answering their questioning gaze. "Like, I'm pretty damn sure the boy doesn't like me. He especially doesn't like me whenever I come within a five-foot radius of Matthew!"

"Alfred just comes off like that, don't worry too much. He's always been like that towards people around Matthew." Said Francis. "He'll warm up to you soon enough."

He shrugged. "I still don't want Alfred to come…"

"I bet Gilbert only wants Matthew to come." Antonio said with a smile, and nudged Gilbert's toned upper arm with his elbow playfully. "Look, he's blushing!"

Gilbert's eyes went as wide as dinner plates. His face turned as red as his eyes, and he shoved the Spanish boy beside him. "Shut up!"

"You're not denying it!"

"Well, I don't mind if he comes." He said truthfully. It was just Alfred he apparently had a problem with.

"I saw you making googly-eyes at him the entire week," Francis shot Gilbert an all-knowing smile that tilted higher on one side, making it more of a smirk, and continued, "If I didn't know it any better, I'd think you were crushing on the boy."

"You did say he was cute a bunch of times." Antonio said to Gilbert thoughtfully.

"So I think he's cute? Francis agrees."

"Why don't you try getting to know him more?" Antonio asked. He began to fiddle with the corner of one of Gilbert's pillows. Suddenly, an idea struck his otherwise empty mind and train of thought, and he said excitedly, as if he had suddenly discovered a cure for world hunger. "He's a nice boy, and you haven't actually dated anyone since, like, ever, so—"

"I have dated people—"

"Being together to make out and do things I'd rather not think about doesn't count—"

"Wait, just now, were you trying to tell me I should try and go for Matthew? I just met him this week, dude!"

"That's why I said you should try to get to know him more! I'm sure Francis agrees, he's always been trying to get you to find someone, so—"

"Actually, I disagree." Francis interrupted, his tone holding a tiny bit of seriousness that was enough to grab Gilbert's attention immediately. "Gilbert, I love you as if we were family, and I'm not saying you're not good enough, but I do not think you two would be a good match."

"Huh, why not?" Antonio asked, obviously discouraged that his bright idea was rejected, and curious as to why.

"Gilbert and Matthew just seem too… Different."

"But, come on! I can see Matthew is growing a little on Gilbert, right?" Antonio nudged Gilbert once more. "And Gilbert's growing a little on Matthew, too, right?"

Gilbert ignored the two boys talking in front of him. Deep in thought, he thought back to his first week of school with Matthew around and found the Canadian boy's little quirks to be endearing, as well as his modest nature to be refreshing.

Now, Gilbert was never the type to turn something down without trying it at least once. _"I'll do anything once."_ He'd always say to himself and the boys. It wasn't a motto, it was a _lifestyle_, and the way he went about things was closely related to his fundamental belief in trying everything at least once before pegging it as something he disliked. It was only fair, right?

While the idea of actually dating someone, and being tied down to him or her, didn't appeal to Gilbert, who was the type who loved having freedom to do whatever and _whoever_ he wanted without any worries of hurting a third party, he never really had the chance to try out the whole 'dating' thing before. So he didn't really know if a real relationship could be better than just mindless sex.

Sex was great, but sometimes it wasn't all _that_ awesome.

_"… Okay, well, sex is awesome, but still."_ He thought to himself.

The only thing people really wanted from him were numerous things that involved a bed or any convenient surface, and not a relationship that lasted for more than a night or existed outside the bedroom. Even the people around him knew he wasn't the type to stay with only one person at a time, or for long.

The idea of having a thing with Matthew began to appeal to Gilbert even more now that he did a quick recap of the week.

Matthew was adorable, with those big eyes with a particularly interesting tint of violet, and a virgin in practically every way possible. During one Chemistry class, Mathias, going through his usual game of Twenty Questions with Matthew, learned the boy had never been on a date, a first kiss, a relationship, or anything remotely close to one. He was so naïve, too. The poor thing thought 'friends with benefits' referred to two friends where one had money that benefitted the second, or friends that hugged and kissed.

The idea of being with someone as clueless about relationships as he was put him to ease; at least they could be clueless together. Besides, with someone that innocent, what could possibly go wrong?

Even though Gilbert was a virgin in the sense that he had never really dated anyone, Gilbert was more than for popping every single one of the Canadian boy's cherries.

The entire week, he had been flirting a little with Matthew at school. Sometimes out of habit as a result of Gilbert's untameable flirtatious tendencies. Sometimes just to see Matthew's eyes go wide, and his face turn pink. At first, his flirting started off as a habit, then slowly progressed, becoming more and more on _purpose_ than it ever was _accidental_.

"What's with that look?" Asked Francis, giving Gilbert a confused look.

"Hmm… So, Antonio thinks Matthew's starting to like me, huh?" Gilbert grinned from ear to ear, a smile that would have put the Cheshire cat to absolute shame. "Matthew's pretty cute, and he is single…"

"So what are you going to do about it?" Antonio asked, as if giving Gilbert the push he didn't know he needed.

"I'm not sure." Gilbert said with a twinge of disappointment. While he was down to win over Matthew's innocent little heart, he had no idea as to how to go about it. "Francis, what do you think? You said you've known the dude for, like, ever. How should I do this?"

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. I do not think you two would be a good match."

"Come on, please?" Gilbert pleaded.

"I said _no_." His voice was suddenly followed by an awkward pause that seemed to erase the light-heartedness of the conversation, cooling up all the warmth within the room, leaving it to feel uncomfortably cold and filled with unexplained tension that made Gilbert's shoulders stiffen. In a much more carefree tone, Francis forced an awkward smile. "A-Anyway, what do you guys want to do today? Want to go see a movie or something?"

—-—

"So, here's the game plan!" Started Antonio.

Sitting on a red, metal bench in the lobby of Golden City, a large movie theatre situated in the left wing at one of the malls the Bad Touch Trio frequented, Gilbert looked up at Antonio, who stood in front of him with a filled to the brim with energy smile and determined fire burning within his emerald eyes; a fire so strong Gilbert could have sworn he was reliving the day Spain won The Uefa 2012 Cup all over again. It took Gilbert and Francis three glasses of water, a sleeping pill or two they hid in a bowlful of Mrs. Carriedo's Jell-O, and a comfy bed to get Antonio to calm down after the game. While his family was equally as crazy as he was that day, the two boys decided they would leave the rest of the Carriedo family to Antonio's lovely mother.

Even Francis made it even more believable with a downcast attitude, similar to when he realized France had lost days before the finals.

"Alfred and Matthew are coming, right?" Antonio, not seeming to catch the sudden change in Francis' mood, asked. Francis nodded with his eyes on the floor beneath Antonio's black Converse, his head hung low. "Okay, good! So, when they get here, Gilbert, make sure to talk up Matthew—"

"What? Is that why we came here, so you could try and get me to hit on Matthew?"

"Well, yeah." Antonio said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Gilbert shook his head. "What? I thought we were just going to watch a movie! Don't you think it's a little too soon for this? I'm pretty interested and shit, but I think I should just wait until Monday or something."

"Well, he's already on his way with Alfred, so, too bad!" He shot Gilbert a wide smile.

"Oh, shit! Hey, genius, you completely forgot about Alfred. The guy doesn't seem to like me hanging around Matthew, remember?"

"Francis and I will distract Alfred on the way into the theatre. You stick with Matthew. Then, we'll make sure Alfred sits in between us, while you sit with Matthew on the very end so Alfred can't reach him or do anything to get to him." Antonio said simply, leaving Gilbert's mouth open to catch flies.

"And you really believe it's going to be that simple?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what if Matthew wants to sit with Alfred?"

"… Oh. I didn't think about that."

"Or if Alfred gets up to move?"

"I didn't think about that, either." Antonio pouted. "Man, I thought I actually had a good idea there! Time to re-think!" He began pacing back and forth in front of Francis and Gilbert thoughtfully.

"Why do you even care this much?"

"I'm Spanish; we Spanish are suckers for lovers."

"But we aren't lovers."

"_Yet_."

For a brief moment, Gilbert ignored Antonio, who returned to his remedial pacing, to nudge Francis with his arm. The French boy looked at him instantly, a strand of blonde locks falling loose of his lazily tied ponytail.

"You okay?" He asked.

Francis nodded and offered him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, thanks."

Gilbert didn't buy into it. Something was bothering Francis, and he couldn't figure out what. When it came to emotions, Francis was the best at them out of the three of them. Gilbert thought he would talk about it with Antonio to figure out what was up with Fancis, but the Spanish boy was as clueless towards feelings as Gilbert was. And there was always the large chance that Francis just wasn't in the mood, or worried over some school work. Just the other day, he was worried about not being able to catch up on his massive stack of Math homework.

"Okay," Antonio exclaimed, stopping in front of the duo on the bench. Both boys looks up, this time Francis raised his head just a little higher. Gilbert felt relieved. "New plan!"

"I hope it isn't anything bad." Gilbert groaned.

"It isn't."

"You sure?"

"What happened to _'I'll do anything once_?'"

"… Touché."

"Gazoontite."

"…"


	6. Poutine

**Title:** Tutor Me, Mathew Williams!  
**Author:** SYNdicate 930  
**Summary:** Who cares about if they have history together? It's all about chemistry, right?

**NOTE:** Sorry about the wait. I thought I would just let this fic sit and gain a little popularity on its own while I posted/updated my newest work; a Spamano fic called **Building Blocks and Condom Boxes. **

Here's the summary I wrote for it:  
_AU. Romano, a young kindergarten teacher, is finding it increasingly hard to come up with rent money by the ends of each month now, so he decides getting a roommate to help alleviate the stress of paying for everything himself would be the best solution. However, all he needs now is a solution for handling his new roommate, Antonio, the pornstar. Spamano. **Rating will most likely go up at some point. **Smutty-fluff.~_

So, yeah. Check it out? Anyway, please enjoy chapter 6 and sorry for any mistakes!

**Chapter 6: Poutine. **

"Alfred, my man!" Antonio greeted Alfred with a pat on the back.

The two shared the same gym period and, naturally, their similar personalities clicked instantaneously, the two bonded over their love for sports and mutual respect for one another. Francis followed Antonio slowly to place a welcoming hand on the boy's shoulder.

With his hands in his pockets, Gilbert took a deep breath as he trailed after his two friends. There was a strange feeling that poked hard in his gut. He recognized it immediately as the feeling of nervousness and uncertainty Antonio would mention whenever he'd talk about Romano. The albino hadn't felt anything like that in a long, _long_ time.

He schooled his pale features into a calm expression, making sure he hid every single ounce of excitement that began to flutter in the pit of his stomach.

"Hey, guys!" Alfred, who had been walking with a hand clamped loosely around Matthew's thin wrist, smiled to the trio while he tugged on his little brother, who followed closely behind him like a scared child, softly. His smile faltered a little as he looked at Gilbert. It didn't bother him too much; he was used to it already, along with the cold stares he would shoot Gilbert if he ever came into a 5 feet radius of Matthew.

If the guy didn't like him, he didn't like him, and Gilbert accepted that. Though, he wasn't sure what he did to make Alfred dislike him so quickly, but he didn't think about too often. Alfred looked over his shoulder, and Gilbert watched him as he spoke to the shorter boy. "C'mon, Mattie, don't be so shy!"

"Let go of me, Alfred!" Whined Matthew, who tried to free himself from his brother's tight, but gentle grasp.

"So how is everyone?" Said boy asked, his blue eyes beaming from behind his glasses, ignoring his brother for a quick second.

"I'm good."

"_Bonjour_! I'm feeling fine."

"I feel great!"

Surprisingly enough, Gilbert was the first to answer. It was more automatic than it was sincere. Alfred glanced over to Gilbert quickly, before shifting his attention to Francis and Antonio. He didn't acknowledge his response one bit.

_"Whatever."_ He thought with a less than noticeable shrug.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Matthew poke his head from behind Alfred to scan the colorful and brightly lit interior of the spacious lobby anxiously. Gilbert's eyes followed Matthew's, leaving him to do a full 360 absentmindedly on his heel. He looked around curiously in search of anything he assumed Matthew would find unsettling or bothersome. In the end, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion as nothing seemed to be wrong or peculiar.

"What's wrong with Matthew?" Antonio asked, leaning on one side to look past Alfred. This made Matthew hide completely behind the older boy, before he poked his head shyly from behind him.

"Is something bothering you?" Francis asked in concern.

Instead of Matthew, who opened his mouth ready to reply, Alfred was the one to answer the French teen. "Oh, he's just nervous since he's wearing one of my shirts. He really doesn't like having to wear my stuff. "

"Huh?" Antonio was bewildered. "I don't get it. Why couldn't he just wear one of his shirts if he doesn't like wearing yours?"

"Well, he did, but I spilled my Coke on him in the car, so I let him borrow a spare shirt I had lying around in my trunk." Alfred looked back at his brother encouragingly. "Come on, Mattie. You look fine."

"N-No, I don't!" Matthew's face was already flushed, even without the three boys seeing him.

Gilbert wondered how bad the shirt Matthew had on was. Maybe it was one of those shirts with the stupid sayings on them. Alfred seemed like the type to own a few 'Keep Calm and blah blah blah' shirts, or those ones with sexual innuendoes. If the latter were the case, the albino could see why someone as pure as Matthew had a problem with being seen in such a thing.

"Even if it's baggy, it should look fine, Matthew." Said Francis, the more or less fashonista of the _Bad Touch Trio_. He was always a step ahead and starting trends amongst the people in the East Riverstone area, what with his mom, who worked at a fashion company, and overall interest in the subject. It was rare to ever see Francis in anything that wasn't designer.

"T-That's the thing…" Stepping out from behind his brother, Gilbert was astonished.

Instead of a shirt with an over-used saying or vulgar pun, the boy sported a tight red t-shirt that hugged the Canadian's thin frame and slightly feminine curves. Well, he sure as hell didn't expect that.

Unconsciously, he opened his mouth slightly to let his tongue lick his lips on their own accord while Matthew continued. "U-Usually my clothes are baggy, but apparently Alfred decided to hand me a shirt he's had even before he knew _how_ to drive…"

"You mean before Alfred's balls dropped?" Francis joked. Antonio laughed along with him, and Gilbert couldn't help but snicker into his hand as the boy's face turned red.

"Shut up, Francis!" Alfred stuck his tongue out. "I bet my balls are way bigger than yours!"

As the two argued, a group of boys strolled by. They looked to be about Gilbert's age, with an ego twice the size of his, and spared Matthew a few glances while Alfred wasn't looking. Matthew felt eyes on his back, and he turned to look behind him. Gilbert could tell their eyes met, as the Canadian noticeably tensed.

Gilbert's jaw clenched and Matthew tugged on Alfred's sleeve frantically. "Alfred… Are you sure you don't have any other shirts I can borrow?"

His older brother turned to look at Matthew apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Mattie!" He hugged the younger boy. "It was the only shirt I had in there, and we couldn't go back home. Did you see how packed the parking lot was?"

"Yeah, this place gets real busy on weekends." Antonio said. "Luckily, we've already bought tickets for the five of us before they sold out."

While he handed a ticket to both boys, Gilbert found it nearly impossible to take his eyes off Matthew. The way the red fabric clung to the boy's body like a second layer of skin was like a gift from the heaven's to Gilbert's wandering gaze.

_"Oh, yeah. I'll definitely do anything once."_ Gilbert joked internally with a grin a more or less mischievous grin.

While he had been introduced to the idea of actually dating someone just earlier that day, the unsure feeling that gnawed at the back of his head began to fade the longer his eyes lingered on Matthew. If being in a relationship meant getting the chance to see what exactly was hiding under those tight clothes, then all doubts Gilbert had about dating the Canadian were out the window.

His grin quirking sideways into smirk as he turned to Antonio with a hushed expression in his normally booming voice. Quietly, he whispered to the Spanish boy. "Okay, so, what was the game plan again?"

There was a slight enthusiastic undertone in Gilbert's voice that Antonio caught onto. He was unable to let it go without pointing it out with a good laugh. "Well, you seem eager!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"You looked like you wanted out just a few minutes ago."

"Well, that was before he walked in _that_." He nodded his head in Matthew's direction. The teen was busy talking to Francis and Alfred about the movie they were about to see. "Man, I never even noticed how tight his jeans really are; usually he's in something long enough to cover that a—"

"Haha, you're such a pervert." Antonio couldn't help but laugh some more.

"Last time I checked, it wasn't illegal to appreciate his bod—clothes." A light blushed formed on Gilbert's milky cheeks. They shared a look, and his face burned. "I said clothes. You heard me!"

"Barely." He grinned. "If _Romano_ every came to school wearing something as tight as that…" He trailed off distractedly, mumbling things Gilbert couldn't quite understand in Spanish. Gilbert swore Antonio was drooling by the way his mouth hung open.

He cleared his throat into his fist awkwardly. "Anyway, can we go over the plan again? I don't wanna fuck up."

"Follow my lead." Replied Antonio, who turned to the other boys. "Hey, Alfred, come here, I need to tell you something!"

"What is it?" He asked.

"Did you see that thing on UFO's the other night?"

Alfred smiled. "You saw that too? Wasn't that sick? I was like, 'whoa!'"

Gilbert furrowed his brows in confusion.

**—-—**

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat or drink or something?" Antonio asked Gilbert, who shook his head 'no'.

Gilbert and the rest of the boys were now approaching a teenage boy in a red, white, and black uniform, who asked for their tickets. Alfred handed the man his, and he and Matthew reached into their shared popcorn bag. Matthew ate one piece at a time, while Alfred stuffed his face with a handful of popcorn. The ticket boy grimaced at the animalistic manner in which Alfred munched down his popcorn, and received a light scolding from Francis.

"That is not very gentleman-like, Alfred." Francis chided the boy, as he handed his ticket as well as Antonio's and Gilbert's.

Alfred stuck his tongue out. "Crying like a girl that one time we watched The Notebook with our moms on Mother's Day isn't very gentleman-like."

"That was a sad movie. Only real men can cry over The Notebook." Francis replied, a little annoyed that the memory was brought up at such a time. "Isn't that right, you guys?" He turned to Gilbert and Antonio, who were laughing uncontrollably beside one another.

"You cried over that kind of sappy crap?" Gilbert snickered into his hand. "Real and _awesome_ men don't do that, bro."

Antonio laughed openly, his hands full with his bag of popcorn, and his drink. "You actually cried over a chick-flick? Whoa, man, that's really funny!"

The ticket boy handed Francis back the tickets and the group began to walk towards the assigned theatre. They said their thanks, but were stopped almost immediately. "I'm sorry, but the boy in the red didn't give me a ticket."

"Didn't I give you two tickets?" Asked Alfred. He frowned when the boy shook his head.

"You only gave me one."

"Huh…" Alfred turned to Matthew. "I must have dropped it. Sorry, Mattie."

The boy shook his head. "Oh, no. It's fine, Alfred. I'll just go buy another."

"You better hurry!" Called Antonio. "They might be close to selling out!"

With a reluctantly expression, he watched as his brother turned on his heel. Matthew was on his way to the ticket counter near the entrance, with his arms crossed nervously over his chest. The urge to run after him and walk with his brother was strong. Alfred didn't like the idea of his brother going off on his own, so he decided to give into the urge that bit away at his mind.

It was only when Antonio brought up the topic of the UFO documentary Alfred had watched the previous night that Alfred's impulse was forgotten about. Antonio asked question upon question all the way into their seats near the front. Alfred sat on the very end between Antonio and Francis while Gilbert at off to the side beside the aisle.

In between he and Francis sat Alfred, who was watching the movie previews like a young, eager child, eating his popcorn and sipping his large coke obediently. Surprisingly, he didn't ask about Matthew, or even turn to look for him. He was a pretty one-track kind of guy, who was only capable of really focusing on one thing at a time, or on whatever seemed to grab his attention the way the previews did. Occasionally, he would make comments about a preview to either Antonio or Francis, who sat on Alfred's right.

Neither seemed to notice the robotic way he ate his popcorn and out-of-character slouch in his seat. The seats behind them were beginning to fill quickly. Suddenly the lights dimmed, and the movie began to roll. Antonio smiled in the dark. Balancing his bag of popcorn on his lap, Antonio pulled out his beat up iPhone to text Gilbert.

**_Okay go find matthew now, alfred isn't playing attention_**

Without a reply, he heard the shuffling of feet, and glanced over his shoulder to see Gilbert leaving. With his hands in his pockets, he walked out of the theatre doors, and down the hall past the other theatres, playing with the unripped ticket he pulled out of Alfred's pocket while he was busy talking about aliens and UFO's with Antonio.

_"Nice thinking, Antonio."_ He thought with a sly grin.

When he reached the lobby, he bit his lip and gave the spacious area a quick once over. Matthew wasn't at the concession stand, and, to his surprise, he wasn't anywhere near the ticket stands. It was odd, where could he have been? Furrowing his brows, he searched the area once more.

**—-—**

"Awh, you're so cute. What are you doing here alone?"

Matthew stepped back. He was met with the hard concrete wall outside beside the entrance, and replied nervously. "I-I told you, I didn't come h-here alone."

He gasped as a hand found its way to his hip as the other pressed against the blue surface beside his head, their violet orbs meeting one another.

The other boy stepped closer to Matthew, and he gulped. He made sure their eyes didn't meet as his violet orbs stared down at the cracked pavement, scared, and clueless as to what to do and how to get away. They were out in public, and the sun was still up, so Matthew doubted rape would be a possible scenario. With that in mind, a small part of him eased.

"Oh, come on now, why won't you show me your cute little face?" The boy's voice sounded uncomfortably closer, and Matthew looked up quickly, through his blonde strands that fell and swayed in the gentle breeze, to see him leaning closer. Matthew's eyes shot back down instantly.

"C-Can you please l-l-leave me alone? I need t-to go back n-now…" He couldn't suppress the shakiness of his voice, or the stuttering on his words. He sucked at talking with strangers, and especially when people invaded his personal space.

He was ignored. "Why don't we go back in together, hmm? A boy like you shouldn't watch movies alone."

"Ah!" Matthew gasped once more as the hand on his hip shifted, and a thumb poked him from under his tight shirt, rubbing circles into his skin above the waist line of his. He flushed immediately. He didn't dare look up. "I-I told you, I didn't c-come alone…"

The boy moved his thumb to rub circles inside Matthew's jeans against his hip. He smirked at the Canadian's red face. "Oh? And who did you come with?"

"I—"

"Mind stepping back?" Came an irritated voice from behind.

The boy turned to glance over his shoulder. Matthew looked up and saw Gilbert. The albino looked a little more than ticked off as he reached for Matthew's wrist.

Before he knew it, he was standing beside Gilbert, who looked more than ready to tear the other boy apart.

"Sorry, but he looks like he doesn't want to talk to you." Said Gilbert. He gritted his teeth, and put his arm around Matthew's frail shoulders. "We were supposed to see a movie together, so, if you can just leave, that'd be real awesome, bro."

The boy was about to say something, but the scowl Gilbert shot him left him shrugging. "Fine. Whatever."

When he was at a far enough distance, Gilbert turned to ask, "Who was that guy?"

Matthew's face hadn't returned to normal. If anything, his cheeks had gotten darker the moment Gilbert put his arm around the boy. "S-Some stranger. I d-don't even remember how he g-got me to talk to him o-outside."

Gilbert chuckled a little awkwardly. "Whatever. He's gone now, right? Why don't we go back in?"

Matthew nodded, and let himself be lead back inside by Gilbert, who frowned slightly. _"Who the fuck was that dude?"_

It was when they reached the front of the line that they realized the movie had been sold out for ten minutes already and that Gilbert's arm was still sitting limply around him. As politely as he could, Matthew moved Gilbert's arm off of him. Gilbert pouted ever so slightly at the lost contact, but covered it up with a look of false disappointment over the movie. "Awh, man. They sold out."

"W-What should I d-do? Should I just w-wait here until the movie is over?"

"Well, I obviously can't leave you here alone with that creep around." Gilbert said, annoyance bubbling his gut.

Antonio's plan only involved Matthew hearing the movie they were watching was sold out, and having Gilbert stay with him until the movie ended. The stranger showing up and hitting on Matthew was _not_ part of the plan at all. There was a possessive feeling that took over Gilbert's system as he looked down at Matthew, who was looking at him with knitted brows. He pushed the possessive feeling away and as far as possible. He didn't really like it.

"A-Are you sure you don't w-want to go back and watch the m-movie with them?" He asked, almost as if guilty for keeping him away.

Gilbert shook his head and laughed. "Oh, no. It's fine. Besides, if Alfred's you're so called 'hero' who saves you and shit, that makes me, like, the awsome substitute when he's not around!"

Tilting his head, Gilbert's chapped lips curved into a suave grin. "How about we ditch waiting around in the lobby for them, and pass a little time in the mall? You hungry or something?"

Matthew nodded, unexplainably flustered and unable to take his eyes off of the smile he found so incredibly handsome and inexplicably captivating, his heart beating harshly in his ears.

**—-—**

**_So how are things going gilbert? OO: _**

**_Good. We're in the foodcourt rn he just left to go get some food_**

**_That's good, alfred hasnt even noticed that you guys are still gone lol_**

**_Rlly? I was kind of worried about that tbh. I'll ttyl when the movie is over matthew is coming back_**

**_Haha, okay. See you later (; _**

Gilbert quickly read Antonio's last text and then shoved his phone into his back pocket to smile up at the Canadian boy, who returned the smile with one of his own. It was shy, but endearing. Placing the red plastic tray on the table in front of Gilbert's, the albino furrowed his eyebrows as he took a bite out of his burger.

"What's that?" He motioned with his burger to the styrofoam bowl of French fries. Or at least he thought they were French fries. No, they were fries. He just had trouble deciphering what exactly was _on_ them.

Matthew reached for his fork, and tilted his head at Gilbert before looking down at his tray. "What's w-what?"

"What is that stuff on your fries?" He asked in confusion. "That is a plate of fries, right?"

Matthew took a sip of his Coca Cola slurpee, unable to supress the giggle or smile that poked at the corners of his lips. Gilbert felt himself smile, too. Why Matthew was laughing, well, he didn't really know. But it was cute.

Unwrapping the plastic around his fork, he gathered a forkful of the strange food, and held it to Gilbert's lips. He leaned away from the fork with a small frown immediately. "N-No thanks, dude."

"Are you sure?" Gilbert nodded, and Matthew ate it instead. The Canadian boy ate in silence, with Gilbert watching him and the unusual food Matthew seemed to be enjoying. He absentmindedly finished his burger, and began to munch away at his fries.

"W-What's with that look?" Matthew said shyly. "I-Is there something on my face?"

He shook his head. "No, it's just that… Well… The hell is that?" He pointed to Matthew's food with a snicker. "I've never seen it before. I don't remember any places here selling that stuff."

"Oh. I-I got it from that new place down there. Apparently it j-just opened." He smiled as he pointed to a small little booth behind him. "This stuff is c-called poutine."

"All I heard was 'poo.'" Gilbert found himself laughing along with Matthew, who dropped his fork onto his tray to laugh into his palm. He'd never really heard him laugh as much as he did now. Truthfully, Gilbert didn't find anything funny in what he said. But, apparently, Matthew did. "What's so funny?"

"I-It's nothing." Matthew was still grinning into his hand. "I k-know, weird name, r-right?"

"Oh, yeah."

"But it's a-actually really good." He said. "L-Lots of people back in Canada eat it. It's really p-popular up there."

"Oh, really now?" Asked Gilbert, a little skeptically.

Matthew nodded.

"I don't know about that. Food with the word 'poo' in its name doesn't sound very awesome tasting to me." They both laughed. Gilbert took a sip at his canned soft drink, watching as Matthew scooped up a gravy covered fry, wondering exactly it would taste like, and as Matthew brought it to his lips once more.

"Say, 'ahh.'" Said Matthew encouragingly as Gilbert continued to back away. "C-Come, Gilbert. It's only gravy and cheese curds."

"The cheese looks more like clumps of marshmallows. Are you sure?"

"Yes, I-I'm sure." After pursing his lips, he scanned the Canadian's innocent features. The mixture of fries, gravy, and cheese looked grosser than it sounded to him. But, if Matthew liked it so much, he thought he'd give it a try. Opening his mouth, he let Matthew feed him a fry.

He couldn't figure out why, but Gilbert felt a wave of heat clash against his cheeks, his face turning a light shade of fuchsia, as he chewed the peculiar food. Didn't couples feed each other stuff?

"H-How is it?"

Gilbert swallowed with wide eyes. "Shit."

"W-What is it?"

He looked down at the food in surprise. "It's actually really awesome. What's it called? Poo something… Uh, poo… poo… poo…"

"It's 'poutine', s-silly." Matthew giggled and brought another forkful to Gilbert's mouth.

"Are you sure I can have some more?" He asked.

"O-Of course. I asked for a s-second fork, just in case." Matthew replied. He handed Gilbert his own fork, who ripped the plastic around it, and dug in.

As they ate, they talked about many things. It took a while for Gilbert to get Matthew to finally talk about himself. It was when Gilbert learned the few things Matthew was interested in, that the Canadian boy started to really talk on his own. There was a little spark in the way they spoke to each other, Gilbert wondered if it was really there, or if he was reading too far into their conversation. Like most talks he'd had with Matthew in the past, their attention had fallen onto the topic of school.

"Are you ready for the Chemistry lab n-next week?" Asked Matthew curiously.

He watched Gilbert purse his lips with a shrug. "Not really. Chemistry isn't really my strong point."

"Y-You're being too rough on yourself." Said Matthew encouragingly. "I'm sure you're doing j-just fine."

"I've failed each test so far."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, if you want, I could t-tutor you?" Offered Matthew.

Gilbert shot Matthew a crooked half-grin, letting his mind wander on the idea. Things had been going well between them so far, and he figured spending more time around Matthew would only make things better, and the Canadian's feelings for him ignite.

"Why not?" Gilbert pushed himself back in his seat, and stood up. "We better get going; I think the movie's over and Alfred's freaking out over you."


End file.
